Dead Man's Hand
by eys1214
Summary: Eric Northman is a casino mogul - envied by all and feared by many. What happens when a certain blonde redneck tries to hustle his poker tables? AU/AH
1. Chapter 1

'_Same shit, different day.'_

Eric Northman ran his fingers through his hair as he made his way toward the security room of the casino floor.

He swiped his card key against the electronic lock then keyed in his four-digit code before he turned the knob.

"Talk to me," he said to his right-hand, a tall and refined woman, Pamela Ravenscroft.

"You look tired, Eric. Is she _that_ good?" Pam teased in a bored tone.

"Her loud moaning is very tiring, which reminds me, she's still in my room. I want her out of there when I come back later," Eric replied, never peeling his eyes off the wide array of monitors in front of him.

"Yvetta," Pam said curtly.

"What?" Eric asked.

"That's the name of your moaner. Not that you care," she drawled.

"Their price tags are the only things I remember."

Pam huffed indignantly. She had handpicked Yvetta for him. Yvetta was a high-class escort, who had met Pam's impeccable taste in women with her thick Russian accent and a body to-die-for. "Remind me again why I suffer a pig like you?"

"Because I'm a very generous pig," he replied offhandedly with a smirk, before he sauntered forward to talk to the head of surveillance. "And your dignity is cheaper than your shoes."

Pam rolled her eyes in indignation but didn't say anything to counter his vilifying remark, because in spite of his snide comments about her exorbitant lifestyle now and then, Eric was really a very good employer and much better friend.

He never treated her like an underling but more of a sister. Eric never had a sibling because his mother died after giving birth to him. His father, Godric, never remarried but took a lot of lovers.

Godric, who was adamant not to spawn another child, spent his life expanding the family business to secure Eric's future.

Although Eric had private houses scattered around the world, the young Eric's concept of home had been confined to the four walls of his suite since Godric spent most of his time dealing with their string of hotels and casinos.

Being the only heir to his family's empire, Eric became the epitome of a spoiled rich boy – sheltered, entitled, arrogant, cold and selfish.

But when Godric died of lung cancer seven years ago, Eric had been forced to take the reign at a young age of 24. It was a good thing his father twisted his arm to take business management in college or he'd be totally helpless against the stockholders, who had tried to outsmart him into handing over his legacy as soon as Godric kicked the bucket.

Eric, who hadn't worked a day in his life, was the first to admit that he was sorely lacking in experience. But he was a fast learner, and tenacity was one of his strong suits.

Eric kept Pam at his side, who was his father's second-in-command before he died, and let go of the people who had expressed their trepidation at him leading the charge. He took a crash course in hotel management and was hands-on with almost everything concerning the company.

He had proven his mettle two years later when he had managed to seal the deal in Macau. The stockholders were setting him up for failure when they asked him to lead the expansion of 'The North' in Asia. They didn't expect Eric to come through with it, though. And as soon as he did, they didn't have any more reasons – and ways - to usurp his management.

Seven years later, Eric earned a spot in Forbes' young billionaires' list with more than eight hotel and casino resorts to his name, not to mention the other establishments he collected through the years.

Spearheading the Northman Enterprise, Eric became fiercer and more ruthless than before - which acquired him the moniker 'the Viking.' At first he thought the label was brought on by his Swedish descent, but it was Pam who pointed out that it was because of his Machiavellian ways of dealing with other companies that got him the title. His 'leave no prisoner approach' was envied by some and feared by many.

Eric paid no mind to his critics, even when they said that his nickname had a negative connotation. For him, the appellation only underscored his power.

The Viking, who was living the ultimate bachelor dream, inherited not only his father's knack for business but also Godric's sense of self-preservation when it came to women.

Even when Eric was younger, he wasn't one to tie himself to anybody. He never had a steady girlfriend who lasted for more than a month.

Women would come and go in regular intervals. Pam even made wagers with other employees as to how long Eric would last with a particular girl. Pam never lost a bet because she would always bet one week. And like clockwork, Eric would dump the poor girl after seven days. According to Eric, women had expiration dates and he was not one to linger and wait for them to spoil.

The Viking soon got tired of dating altogether. Now, he would only go down to the casino or the club - if he were feeling more flirty – to pick up his fuck for the night. On nights such as tonight, when he didn't even have the energy to trouble himself with useless chitchat, he would leave the procuring to Pam.

"If you like her so much, Pam, then by all means help yourself. It's on me," he said as he winked at Pam, who had made no secret of her sexual preference. Pam shook her head in disgust but took note of his offer. Maybe she could sneak in a little treat during her midnight break.

Eric patted the man who was sitting in front of a big monitor that overlooked the casino floor on the shoulder. "Anything out of the ordinary, Hawk?"

Sam Merlotte, a man with a medium built in his thirties, was the one in-charge of manning the surveillance cameras in the control room. Sam's hawk-like eyes were exceptional in spotting cheaters and chip-swappers that got him the nickname 'Hawk'.

"Nothing worth your time, boss. We had some minor problems with the new slot machines in the high limits floor. They're defective. Pam already sent a technician to fix them. Oh, and just a couple of nerds who were counting cards at the blackjack table. Roman's on his way to detain them."

Eric snorted derisively as he studied the screens. "Fucking nerds. Think they're too smart to get away with anything. Tell Roman to call me when he shakes them up. I need some entertainment." He wouldn't admit it to anyone but rattling up some gutsy dorks might be the only highlight of his boring day.

The Viking started toward the door, with Pam on his heels. He needed to make an appearance on the casino floor and greet the usual high rollers.

"Actually, there's one more thing," Sam hurried on. Eric's steps halted as he looked back at his technical supervisor, eyebrow raised.

"Look at this," Sam said as he pointed at the huge frame in the center. The Hawk, with his messy hair and scruffy beard, zoomed in on one of the tables at the high limits poker room. Eric bent forward to get a better view of the screen.

Eric couldn't see what Sam was trying to show him. Poker tables did not tend to draw much attention from security, mainly because it was not a hotspot for cheaters. For one, poker wasn't technically gambling, but more of a game of wits. So unless the players were conspiring with each other to outgun another opponent – known as collusion - there was very little the management could do.

Besides, this particular table was holding a Texas Hold 'em tournament, so the money in the pot belonged to the players and not the house. In fact the casino would be more profitable if more players would join in because the house would earn ten percent of the pot money.

"Can you see it?" Sam asked.

"No, I don't. Bottom dealing?" Eric focused his gaze on the dealer to see if he were handing cards from the bottom of the deck. But there wasn't anything wrong with the way he was dealing.

Eric kept a tight leash on all his employees. He had made it a point to meet with his staff from housekeeping to management twice a month to make sure no one would risk betray his trust. In the span of seven years he had only caught three, one from administration and two from the gaming department.

The two croupiers, a gutsy operator rigging the roulette wheel and a dealer conspiring with a player who was counting cards at the blackjack table, got off easy.

Eric fired the recalcitrant croupiers on the spot and issued a ban on them so they wouldn't be able to step inside any casinos in Vegas – much less work in one. But that was Eric being tolerant.

The Viking wasn't as forgiving with Bill Compton, though, whom, he had caught sending sensitive information to one of Eric's foremost rival – Russell Edgington.

_Pour encourager les autres._

Upon learning the manager's treachery, Eric had Bill followed and was given a good beating until he was barely recognizable. As if to rub salt on the wound, Eric pink-slipped the bastard in the middle of a staff meeting. Everyone stood witness as Bill got dragged out of The North like a filthy mongrel.

Bill, who had worked at The North for the past decade sued Eric for wrongful termination and assault.

But Eric Northman was unfazed. With the amount of information he had gathered about the manager's duplicity, Eric knew he wouldn't even get to see the inside of a courtroom.

As expected Bill lost the case before it even started. His lawyer didn't stand a chance against the sharks Eric had on retainer. Ironically, it was the manager who ended up paying Eric a hundred thousand dollars in damages. It could have been more but Eric was in a charitable mood.

The Viking was pulled out of his musing when he felt Pam coming up behind him, who was also squinting at the monitors.

Sam magnified the video feed, but all Eric could see was a blonde girl in an inexpensive looking blue dress.

The blonde was fairly attractive with her wavy locks, fair complexion and big brown eyes, but there was nothing extraordinary about her. Eric couldn't see her full figure because she was sitting down, but from what he could see, she had ample bosoms and toned shoulders that were notable but not exceptional.

"Sam, if you're planning to set me up with that girl, forget it. She's not my type. Too fucking plain."

"I'll take her," Pam butted in. "She looks sweet."

Eric looked at Pam as though she was someone who would take home doggie bags after a date and snorted before he straightened his back.

"No! I mean, yeah she's cute but that's not what I mean." Sam stood up and gave Eric his swivel chair to sit in. Eric took it and fixed his gaze at the monitor again.

"See this," Sam pressed his index finger on the screen, pointing at the two cards the blonde were holding. It was a new deal so she hadn't seen them yet. The blonde squeezed the cards in front of her to peek at them. Ace and Eight of Spades.

'_Good hand,' _Eric noted.

Then the betting began, she paid the blinds and raised them double. The camera was focused on the girl that all Eric could see of the other players were their hands pushing the chips at the center of the table.

The Flop came, Seven of Spades, Jack of Diamonds and Ace of Clubs.

The blonde's chances were looking better. The blonde checked without calling a raise as she waited for someone to make the move.

'_Not bad,'_ Eric mused. When there was a face card – Kings, Queens and Jacks – or Aces it was always prudent to look modest when you have a good hand. Otherwise it was like announcing you have an indomitable set of cards, thus scaring your opponents away early in the game. Someone took the bait and raised the bets. The blonde peeked at her cards again, looking doubtful, before she called the raise.

'_She's playing them!'_ Eric mused.

Then came the Turn, which was an Eight of Clubs.

'_Dead man's hand,'_ the Viking thought.

The blonde now had one of the best possible hands at the table. It was time to make her move. Because it was a no-limit game a player could raise more than the value of the pot and that was when the raise war began until there were only three players left before the last card was drawn - including the blonde, who was obviously hustling the table.

As though the blonde couldn't get any luckier, the River card was an Ace of hearts. Full house, Aces over Eights. It couldn't get any better than that. It was time to go for the kill. If she played her cards right, she could lure the remaining players to go all-in.

The first player to call had raised double. That player was obviously bluffing, there was no way he could beat the girl's hand.

That was when the blonde did the unexpected. She folded.

"Whoa!" Pam gasped. "Why would she fold a full house without the possibility of a royal flush or quad? Bad beat!"

Since there were only three live players at the table before the River, the pot was left for the last two participants to fight over.

The man on the opposite end went all-in, while the other one folded his hand. And just like that the game was done.

The player, who made the blonde fold, took the large pot without having to show his cards.

"She's probably a fish who gets scared way too easily," Eric muttered under his breath. Although he didn't sound convinced himself.

"She has been playing like that for the past couple of hours, boss. She would fold a good hand then would go all-in with crappy cards," Sam said. "At first I thought it was her play, too. Going chameleon so the other players won't be able to tell when she's bluffing. But while I was watching her, I figured it out. She was colluding with the other guy – the one who just took the pot."

Eric turned pensive for a moment. If Sam were right and the blonde was losing on purpose to help the other player then she was really colluding. Unfortunately, there was virtually nothing the management could do about it. The house was known to turn the other cheek when it came to poker games. For one, collusion was hard to prove.

"Maybe she has the hots for the other guy. Let it go, Sam. We're not losing money on that anyway," Eric said without enthusiasm before he stood up from the chair and started toward the door.

"It's Bill Compton, boss," Sam blurted. Eric turned around abruptly to face Sam. "Bill's the guy she's helping."

Eric's eyes darkened instantly before he turned to Pam. "Bring them in."

The Viking dashed toward the monitors. "Play the previous surveillance. I want to know if they're really working together. No one fucks with me in my house. Especially _not_ Bill Compton."

* * *

**E/S**

"What am I doing here, Eric? Got tired of fucking my wife, so now you're gonna fuck with me again?" Bill snarled as soon as he was pushed brusquely in the detention area.

Eric unbuttoned his blazer as he took the seat opposite the disgruntled man.

Bill Compton, a medium-sized man in his late thirties with short-styled dark hair and pale blue eyes, was wearing a crisp white buttoned-down shirt and brown slacks.

But even with his expensive apparel, he didn't hold a torch against Eric, who towering over him at six-foot-two with his Adonis-like features with short dark blonde hair, blue-gray eyes, thin lips highlighted by the dimple on his chin.

Eric was wearing a tailored gray suit, a black silk shirt, and polished custom-made leather shoes.

"Oh, Billy, I've only screwed Lorena once and it was more of a hate lay on my part," Eric replied offhandedly, remembering Bill's wife, Lorena, who was all too eager to jump in bed with Eric as soon as he took the head post in the company.

Lorena was beautiful and useful but she was a typical gold-digger. Eric had no patience with the likes of her.

It was also through Lorena that Eric found out about Bill's indiscretions.

Bill hissed as he shot daggers at Eric. He was shaking with rage, ready to pounce on the Viking. But he was stymied in his chair by Roman's firm hands grabbing his shoulders.

Eric waved his hand at Roman as he dismissed his head of security. He didn't need Roman for this. He could handle Bill's hissy fits all by himself.

"The North's hospitality really went downhill since you took charge. Tell me, is this how you treat all your guests? Or is it just me?" Bill asked dryly.

"Just you," Eric replied coolly as he studied Bill across him. "I don't like your stench of desperation clinging to my guests."

"You're a fucking asshole!" Bill snapped.

"Tut-tut, I'll be doing the talking here, Billy," Eric chided. "Just when I thought you couldn't sink lower, you did. Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Letting a girl throw her hand just so you could win?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please. It's one thing to screw with my whales, but to insult my intelligence, too?" Eric tsked as he shook his head in mock disapproval. "Let me cut you a deal, Billy, tell me what you're planning to do and I will let you go with maybe just a little scratch. With a promise, of course, that you will not set foot in any of my casinos."

Bill scowled before he leered at the Viking. "It must be so frustrating to be you. Having everything but knowing nothing."

Eric leaned back in his chair, never taking his eyes off Bill. A devilish smirk broke across his lips. "How's your hand, Bill? Still throbs when it's cold?"

Bill dropped his hands on his lap, which made Eric grin even wider.

"Have it your way, Billy boy. I'll let you go since you're not worth a space in my cell. But first I want you to take a long, hard look at my face. This is the face that took _everything_ from you once. I can do it again. Don't try me," Eric threatened as he raised his index finger at the one-way mirror behind Bill. "Besides, your girlfriend's still with us. There are many ways I can make her scream."

A flicker of concern flashed in Bill's eyes, but he shook it off immediately. He composed his features to remain unperturbed.

The door swung open and Roman, Eric's stocky Grecian henchman, strolled in with a menacing look on his face.

"Escort Mr. Compton to his car. And make sure to send word to all employees that Bill here is no longer welcome in any of my hotels. If he dares to challenge me again, feel free to do what you deem fit. I see his left hand's still good."

Roman savagely pulled Bill by his arms, but the smaller man shook Roman off as he straightened his shirt. "Your arrogance will be your downfall, Eric. And when it happens, I'll be there spitting in your grave."

"Oh, Billy. Don't delude yourself. You'll die before I do. I'll make sure of that," Eric said with a devious grin.

He watched Bill get hauled out of the interrogation room that looked like the ones used by the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police. Eric had designed it to look that way so as to confuse and intimidate the ballsy cheaters and infuse a sense of dread in them.

* * *

**E/S**

Pam had been waiting for Eric in the other room, where they detained the blonde from the poker table. Eric tapped on the mirror to call Pam outside. He wanted to get as much intel about the girl since Bill wasn't forthcoming about her at all.

"Have you warmed her up?" Eric asked Pam as soon as she closed the door behind her. It was a soundproof room so they could not be overheard.

"She's not talking. I confiscated her purse and found this." Pam held up the blonde's driver's license. Eric took it and read the information in it.

"Sookie Stackhouse?" Eric asked half-amused. "Kind of name is that?"

"Apparently one they give their kids in the South," Pam deadpanned. "She's from Louisiana."

"A twenty-three-year-old hick hustling my table?" Eric asked as he lifted a brow. "This better be good."

Eric ran his fingers through his hair before he entered the interrogation room.

The blonde, who had her gaze fixed on the mirror in front of her, didn't even look up when Eric entered.

'_Poker face, lovely,'_ Eric mused as he took the seat opposite her, positioning himself in her line of vision.

"Did they offer you some refreshments?" he asked the blonde, who, he admitted, was more striking up close.

The blonde looked at him with cold eyes. "Why am I here?" she asked without preamble.

'_Straight shooter, I like it.'_

"You're here because I invited you here," Eric answered smoothly, turning on his charm a notch higher. Surely a simpleton like her would squirm under his penetrating gaze.

The blonde crossed her arms over her chest. "Correct me if I'm wrong but last time I checked, an invitation still offers an option. And I _wasn't_ given one."

'_Feisty.'_

"Forgive my people, Miss Sookie, can I call you Sookie?"

"I prefer it if you don't. Only my friends call me Sookie, and so far, you haven't done anything friendly to me," Sookie snapped.

Eric was taken aback. No one had dared talk to him like that. He clenched his jaw before he schooled his features to look unaffected. "Alright. Miss Stackhouse, then."

When she didn't reply, he decided to start badgering her. "Since you're in no mood to be nice, I will cut to the bull and ask you, what are doing here with Mr. Compton. Don't even try to deny it, I've got eyes everywhere. I know you came here with him and you've been working my tables. Usually I don't give a damn when a fish like you decides to swim with the sharks, but I'm making an exception. Because you, Miss Stackhouse, have been keeping bad company."

"I don't think it's any of your goddamn business," she snapped icily. Her southern drawl was becoming evident along with her irritation.

"Everything that happens under my roof is my business, Miss Stackhouse."

"As far as I'm concerned, you have squat against me. I haven't done anything illegal."

"I know you're colluding with Mr. Compton. That constitutes as cheating. I don't know how you do things in the South, but in here we take cheating seriously."

"You can't prove anything. Not every hand is a playing hand. I'm just practicing modesty. It's called a strategy, you should look it up, because you're obviously lacking one," she said acidly.

Eric was on the verge of losing his patience with the woman. He leaned forward to intimidate her. "Do you have any idea who I am, Miss Stackhouse?" his voice dropped to a threatening whisper.

Eric had seen grown men cry and crap in their pants when they heard that tone from him.

The girl, however, didn't even flinch.

"I don't know who you are, but if you say you own this place then that makes you Eric Northman. Your name's in all the boring magazines in my dentist's office. You see, they also teach us how to read in Louisiana. I know my rights, Mr. Northman. You have nothing to arrest me so I demand to be released right now."

"You know who I am and yet you have the gall to _demand_ something from me?" Eric laughed dryly. "Do you know that people have pissed in their pants just by my mere presence, Miss Stackhouse?"

Sookie remained expressionless as she spoke. "Don't you worry about me, Mr. Northman. I have good control of my bladder."

Eric couldn't help the chuckle that came out of him from her snarky comeback. She was really fierce. Whether it was from ignorance or sheer stupidity, he didn't know. But he was sure of one thing, though, she was _interesting_.

He heaved a big sigh as he leaned back on his chair. He knew Pam was watching and must be having a good fucking time watching this backwater girl talk back to him. He scowled at the mirror before he turned his attention back to Sookie.

"We're not getting anywhere here, so can we have a do-over?" Eric asked. He was changing tactics because clearly he couldn't treat this girl like an ordinary offender. She didn't fear him enough – or at all.

Sookie looked at him conspicuously but kept mum.

"You're right. Technically, you haven't done anything illegal for us to detain you or hand you over to LVPD. But you have to excuse my behavior. There's too much bad blood between me and Mr. Compton. It's hard for me to overlook your relationship with him." Eric stood up and made his way toward Sookie. He stopped beside her and sat on the table. He turned his charm all the way up as he looked at her with smoldering blue eyes. "So let me rectify my initial actions by offering you a complimentary suite."

Sookie looked up at him, bemused at the sudden turn of events. "That's very generous of you, Mr. Northman, but no, thank you. I have a perfectly good apartment and a cat that will go hungry if don't come home to feed him."

She stood up from her seat, and instantly regretted the move because now she was face to face with the arrogant bastard.

'_Damn, he smells good,_' she thought.

She immediately stepped back to put some distance between Eric and her. But her foot tripped on the leg of her chair and she fell backward.

Eric, with his incredible reflex, caught her before she hit the floor.

Their faces were inches apart and Sookie was mesmerized by the intensity of his azure orbs. His lips were slightly parted and for a fleeting moment, she wanted to latch on to those wet lips.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head out of the trance. Using the heels of her hands, she pushed herself up.

Bad move, again.

Because Eric wasn't ready to get up yet that when she sprung up, her body pressed onto his. The contact sent electric waves through her as she felt Eric's erection throbbing against his pants on her stomach.

Eric, who was aware of his raging bulge for the blonde, was also shocked by their sudden closeness. He accidentally let go of her and she dropped on the floor with a thud.

"Ow!" Sookie yelped.

Eric stood up and straightened his blazer, before he offered a hand to Sookie.

Sookie begrudgingly took it as she hoisted herself. _'What freakin' a gentleman!'_ she thought sardonically.

"I'd like to have my purse back, please," she demanded when Eric made no move to let go of her hand.

Eric, without loosening his grip on her, swung the door open. A smirking Pam came in with Sookie's purse and placed it on top of the table.

Sookie cleared her throat loudly as she looked pointedly at Eric's hand enveloping hers.

Eric, who just realized he was still holding her, dropped her hand and tucked both his hands inside his pockets.

"Pam, please have Miss Stackhouse escorted out," he ordered in an even tone. Pam waved her index finger at the mirror and a man wearing a sharp black and white suit with an earpiece on, came in and led Sookie out.

As soon as the door closed, Eric sat back on the table as he stared at his image on the mirror. _'What the fuck, Northman?!'_

"What the fuck was that?" Pam echoed his thoughts, amused and irritated at the same time. "If I hadn't known better I would have thought you're fucking smitten with that hick."

"Of course, I'm not," he growled defensively. "But I'm not yet done with her. I know she's working with Compton. I just need to know why."

He wasn't sure if he were trying to convince himself or Pam that all he cared about was the girl's affiliation with Bill. Nevertheless, he would not stop until he knew everything.

"Find out everything about her. Where she lives. Where she works. Her family. Her friends. Even her fucking cat."

He didn't ask for her boyfriend or, heaven forbid, husband. He wasn't sure he wanted to know if she had one.

* * *

**A/N: I do not own the characters. I only want to play with them a bit.**

**This fiction is the product of my three loves - gambling, food and Eric Northman. I hope y'all support it as much as you did Haunted.**

**For my lovely readers, who have asked for a sequel to Haunted, please accept my apologies. I don't know much about Warlow and I'm afraid if I force the storyline it may not come out good. Besides, there are so many exceptional writers who have done terrific jobs in continuing the season five finale. Since I'm quite new at this, I'm leaving the heavy load to the pros.**

**Before this note turns out longer than the story itself, I'll be signing off for tonight as I leave the judging to you. I hope, hope, hope (pretty desperate, huh?) you find time to read it and send me your thoughts. I promise you it'll be quite a ride. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

Sookie grabbed the stale muffin from the table top as she fished her keys inside her bag. It was only her third day in the restaurant, and she was already running late.

Since she and her older brother, Jason, were neck-deep in debt left by their gambler father, Sookie never really had to think twice when Bill Compton, an old friend of their family, offered her a job at an Italian restaurant in the Strip in Vegas.

With a bigger paycheck that came with board and lodging, it was a no-brainer. Her only sacrifice was that she would leave her home, brother and friends.

Because she had no formal training in culinary she was only offered the kitchen assistant job, which was the lowest rank in the hierarchy of chefs.

But Sookie didn't mind. Especially since Tara Thornton, the Chef de Cuisine and co-owner of Fiordillatte, told her if she did well in the next couple of months she could be promoted to commis - an apprentice chef – where she could learn the ropes in the food business that might help her work her way up the ladder.

She wasn't actually new in the restaurant business having worked as a barmaid since she was sixteen at Lafayette's, a local pub in her hometown Bon Temps in Renard Parish, Louisiana.

She and her brother had been living with their grandmother since her father left them to try his luck in Las Vegas when she was only 12 and Jason was 14.

But when her Gran, Adele, died last year, she and Jason had to work extra hard just to have three square meals a day - not to mention the monthly bills that kept coming to taunt them.

Sookie didn't know much about cooking, but she was a quick study and she didn't want to wait tables all her life.

Since she only finished high school, her career options were limited.

Her string of bad luck started when her mother, Michelle, died in a car accident when she was four.

Her father, Corbett, began losing his way since his wife's death. He started gambling, and while he was good at it he was ill-equipped with the harsh reality that in gambling it didn't matter if you had the skills if you weren't shrewd enough to survive.

But Corbett was a very trusting man and that had paved the way for his eventual demise.

With Corbett's delusions of grandeur he decided to leave Sookie and Jason to play in the big league. That plan was doomed to failure right from its conception but nobody had the heart to tell Corbett. Because even though he was a lousy player, he was not a lousy person. He always had a sunny disposition in dealing with things. He would always tell his children that lady luck would smile upon them soon.

Corbett also tried to be there for his children, although they barely scraped with his meager salary as a construction worker at Herveaux Contracts, he always managed to put food on the table. And he was always there to tuck both Sookie and Jason to bed.

The arrival of the conniving weasel Mac Rattray into Bon Temps was the beginning of the end for Corbett Stackhouse. Mac sweet-talked Corbett into going against the sharks in Vegas. Mac even offered to pay for Corbett's plane ticket and accommodations. All Corbett had to do was show up and pay for the hundred dollar buy-in.

The promise of easy money lured Sookie's father. Maybe he was too gullible - or too desperate - that he fell for it.

Things went from bad to worse for Sookie and Jason. Corbett left for Vegas with Mac in that fateful April of 2002 and joined the tournament that offered a whopping pot – enough for the Stackhouses to live comfortably for the rest of their lives.

It was supposed to be a weekend event but the weekend dragged into weeks, and weeks became months that soon turned into a year. Corbett would call his mother, Adele, and his two children every week and assured them that he would be home soon.

But he never did.

Sookie hadn't heard from her father for a couple of months and all of them, especially her Gran, were getting agitated that Jason threatened to fly to Las Vegas and drag his father back home.

But before Jason could hop onto a plane, the dreaded phone call came.

It was the fourth of July of 2003, and Sookie could still remember it like it was yesterday.

She was at the Fortenberry's, their next-door neighbor, helping the family's matriarch Maxine Fortenberry set up for their annual barbecue when Jason came barging in like a man possessed and told her their father was found buried in the desert in Reno.

She couldn't remember what happened next that night. All she could remember was her Gran's lap where she cried herself to sleep.

Their neighbors and friends all chipped in so they could have her father's body flown to Bon Temps. The authorities in Nevada couldn't see any foul play in his death. The police who notified them said Corbett had died of suffocation.

According to the report, Corbett had high alcohol level in his blood stream. He must have been drunk and was caught in a flash flood in the middle of the desert.

Nobody believed it.

But they didn't have the money to pay for an autopsy or hire a private investigator to find out what really killed Corbett. So they kept their mouths shut and did what they could to give him a proper burial.

The nightmare didn't end there, though.

A month after the Stackhouses buried Corbett, Adele received another phone call.

It was from a loan shark who, apparently, lent Corbett a large sum of money to bankroll his addiction. With very few words the man had conveyed the magnitude of the situation to Adele. "Pay up or we'll take everything from you."

The Stackhouses had very little left, so Adele gave their ancestral house as collateral until they could come up with the money Corbett owed, plus interest.

Adele, who was in her early sixties when Corbett died, went back to work as a cashier in a local drugstore.

A large part of her income would go to the offshore account the loan shark had given her. Jason and Sookie were aware of their Gran's predicament, so when Jason was old enough to get a job, with permit from the Parish, he jumped at the first opportunity to help the family's finances. Jackson Herveaux, Corbett's old boss, hired Jason as contractor without question.

Sookie couldn't wait to help out either and as soon as her Gran permitted her to get a job, too, she didn't hesitate to ask Lafayette Reynolds, the owner of the local bar and grill, for a place among the wait staff.

Lafayette was very accommodating to Sookie that he even gave her good shifts so she could still finish high school while working.

When Adele was diagnosed of cardiomegaly - enlarged heart - Sookie and Jason begged her to stop working and leave the heavy lifting to them.

Adele had lived for three more years until her body finally gave up.

Ten years later and their father's debt remained the same. The money they were handing over to the shylock was barely enough to cover the interest that kept rising every year.

Sookie's internal wallowing was halted when Tara, face flushed with anger, came up to her while she was busy prepping the mise en place for the lunch shift.

"What did you do?" Tara growled at Sookie, drawing the attention of everyone in the kitchen.

Sookie dropped the knife on the chopping board as she faced the livid head chef. "Chef?" she asked, confused.

"Don't you fuckin' 'Chef' me and tell me what the fuck you did!" Tara screamed. Sookie looked around the room, her eyes pleading her co-workers for help. "You've only been here for less than a week and yet you managed to piss off the one person who could run you out of town with a flick of a finger!"

Sookie swallowed hard, she still had no clue what made Tara so hostile.

"Eric Northman's outside," Tara spat, pointing a finger at the kitchen door leading to the dining area. "Eric fucking Northman doesn't go outside for lunch! He has Michelin chefs at his beck and call, not to mention his countless restaurants all over Vegas. So tell me, what you've done to make him come all the way here?!"

It finally made sense to Sookie. She tried to mess with him on his turf, so now he was giving her the taste of her own medicine.

She opened her mouth to explain but Tara cut her off.

"Do you wanna know the best part?" Tara asked mockingly. "He wants you to cook his meal! You!" she let out a humorless cackle. "I'm sure he knows you don't know the difference from sautéing and deep-frying, so my guess is you pissed him off royally and now he wants an excuse to drive your ass back to Louisiana. And you'll be taking this whole damn restaurant down the drain with you!"

Sookie was shaking now. She wasn't scared of Eric Northman. He was a typical bully and she had lived her life dealing with the likes of him. But she was terrified of Tara and the fact that she could lose her job - her one ticket out of hell.

"I'm sorry, chef. I swear I didn't know he would go this far. I was only trying -"

"You know what, don't tell me. I don't want to know. I don't want to be dragged in shit with you. You're so fucking stupid to get mad at anyway," Tara said dismissively before she headed to her office adjoined to the kitchen.

After a few charged minutes, Tara came back with a small index card in her hand. She gave the card to Sookie, who was still pretty shook up. "This is a simple spaghetti carbonara recipe. Follow it, word by fucking word, and try your best not to screw it up. Taste, taste, taste. When it's done send me a sample before you serve it to him. And did I mention he also wants you to serve it?" Tara asked sarcastically before she stomped toward the back door.

"Aren't you gonna teach me?" Sookie asked, more like begged Tara.

"Knock yourself out! I'll be out back. I need a smoke!"

After Tara left, Selah Pumphrey, the brunette sous chef, gave Sookie a disapproving look before she went back to her station.

Contrary to Tara's belief, Sookie had little knowledge in the kitchen from helping her Gran out earn a little extra by selling Adele's special pecan pie.

But Italian food was new to her so she obeyed Tara and followed the recipe to a T – well, almost to a T. She decided to add baby asparagus and fried egg on top. Tara almost threw a fit when she saw what Sookie had done. She almost threw it in the bin but Terry Bellefleur, one of the line cooks, urged Tara to give it a try first since they were running out of time and everybody in Vegas knew Eric Northman wasn't a very patient man.

Tara was surprised when the pasta dish wasn't bad at all. The asparagus blended with the richness of the white sauce and the egg. Tara gave Sookie the green light as she crossed her fingers behind her back.

Sookie took off her hair cap and smoothed her chef's whites before she went outside to serve the meal to the 'devil reincarnate.'

Eric Northman, dressed casually in a plain dark gray t-shirt, black slim jeans and a pair of black boots, was busy typing on his mobile phone when Sookie arrived at his table.

"Thank you for waiting, sir," Sookie kept her voice clinical. If she would lose her job because of him, she would go down with what little dignity she had left. She placed the plate of pasta carefully on his table while Eric watched her in barely disguised amusement.

"Aren't you going to tell me, what I have waited half an hour for?" Eric asked acidly.

Sookie took a deep breath to calm her nerves, before she went on to explain the dish. When she was done, Eric was studying her closely, a smirk on his thin lips.

Sookie refused to be unnerved by his intense stare. She had managed to stood up to him last night, she could do it again. "Would you like another glass of wine?" she asked politely.

"Yes, please," he replied, his grin that irritated Sookie was still plastered on his face.

Sookie turned and started on walking toward the kitchen. But Eric's hand on her arm stopped her.

"On second thought, I'd like to have you instead."

Sookie yanked her arm out of his grasp and faced him with steely eyes. "I'm not on the menu."

Eric chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself, Miss Stackhouse. I don't like you that way. I only wanted to resume our conversation last night. You see, you still haven't answered my questions."

Sookie could feel her cheeks burning with humiliation. She could feel eyes boring into her from her fellow workers, who were undoubtedly watching their interaction from the kitchen. Sookie could also hear soft murmurs from the diners, who were polite enough to keep their gawking to a minimum.

"Look, Mr. Northman, if I have offended you last night, I'm truly sorry. I'm sure you can tell I'm new here and I don't know how things work in this town. But I can assure you, I won't be causing anymore trouble in any of your establishments ever again. I only hope you can do the same."

Eric bit his lip as he kept his gaze trained on Sookie. Paired with his blazing orbs, he was the image of a perfect predator, sizing up his prey. Sookie jutted her chin out to hide the buckling of her knees. She grabbed the backrest of the chair opposite him to steady herself.

"Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Northman. May we never see each other again," she said as a way of parting, before she made her way back to the kitchen with quick, but calculated steps.

Eric watched her go as his grin turned into a frown. He took out his wallet and pulled a hundred dollar bill before he grabbed his phone and car keys from the table. But just as he was about to stand up and leave, he noticed the pasta dish Sookie had prepared for him.

Despite his frustration, he couldn't help but take a bite. He wasn't sure if the food just looked too appetizing to ignore, or the fact that the woman who made it was too interesting for him pass up.

He decided it was the food because after one bite, Eric decided he wanted more.

**E/S**

"I can't decide how to use my invisibility? For evil or for the good of mankind," Pam said as she sat on the leather couch in his spacious office at The North, while Eric sat behind his desk lost in his thoughts.

He only caught the last few words Pam had said but they were enough to draw his attention. He finally looked up at her, his eyebrows raised quizzically. "Huh?" he asked.

"Good. So you were listening. I was beginning to wonder if I suddenly turned invisible," Pam drawled as she took the seat opposite Eric. "Something's distracting you. What is it? I haven't seen you this serious. Not even when we were planning a major takeover in Miami."

Eric pivoted his swivel chair as he turned his back on Pam. His office had the most spectacular view of the Strip and he loved it. It reminded him of everything he had accomplished in very little time. It made him feel all-powerful, invincible and fucking untouchable. Just like the kings who ruled old Vegas.

But even the magnificent view couldn't distract him from thinking of that particular blonde, who seemed to be immune to his innate charisma.

"Do you know that little Italian restaurant by the Flamingo road?" Eric asked without looking back at his second-in-command.

"Fiordillatte?" Pam answered immediately. Of course she knew about that place, she was the one who told Eric that it was the blonde's place of employment.

"Yes, that," Eric replied. He knew Pam was testing him if he would divulge his irrational interest with that specific blonde.

"What about it?" She was baiting him, but she wouldn't be so tactless as to tease him when she wasn't certain what state of mind he was in.

Eric had always been congenial toward her, but she had seen him get very unpredictable and quite frankly, scary toward others. And she wasn't about test the limitation of their friendship because of a stupid girl.

"I want to buy it," Eric said casually, as though he was talking about getting himself a new pair of shoes or a set of golf clubs.

"Okay. Are you going to tell me why?"

"You know why."

"Eric, aren't you too young to have a mid-life crisis?" Pam asked teasingly. She just couldn't help it. "Or is this some kind of macho thing that you couldn't stand the fact that with three billion women in the world, there's one who couldn't stand you?"

Eric turned abruptly around to face Pam, the vein on his forehead throbbing with irritation. But he caught himself before he could blurt out anything that he was sure he would regret.

He was acting absurdly because of _her_.

It was gnawing at him that _she_ could stir up a lot of emotions from him. _'She wasn't even drop-dead gorgeous for fuck's sake?'_

But _her_ eyes were thoughtful and innocent at the same time that would make you want to look at her more. It was also captivating how her face would scrunch up when she was scowling at him. Even the gap between her teeth complimented her sweet and hypnotic façade. And he fucking hated all of them.

He had dated supermodels, celebrities and high-powered business women and he had never even had to go out in the middle of the day for any of them. He wouldn't get out of bed before noon for less than a million dollars. Sometimes, even a million dollars didn't even seem worth it.

But with _her_, hell, he even had the concierge wake him up at noon so he wouldn't miss her shift.

Now he was thinking of buying a shitty restaurant because he wanted to impress a redneck girl.

"It's not about her. It was never about her. She's working for Compton, and that fucker will stop at nothing to get back at me. She is just a pre-emptive measure. I need to be two steps ahead of that asshole. I almost lost the Macau deal because of him. Don't you think it's only wise to make sure he never gets any more chances to screw with me?" Eric asked Pam, who still looked unconvinced. "My father used to tell me, the way to catch a cheater is to hire one."

Pam turned contemplative for a second before she finally looked satisfied. "Fine. I'll have our lawyer draw the contract first thing tomorrow. You'll have Fiordillatte within the next week."

Eric flashed her a satisfied smile as he leaned back on his chair, contentedly counting the days until he could see her again.

"Pam?" Eric called out to his associate as she marched toward the door.

It was time for the usual pit bosses' roundup in her office. She turned halfway to look at Eric.

"Keep it hush-hush will you? I want the transaction to be completed as quietly as possible. We don't want to alarm our friend, Compton, now do we? And make sure to include _her_ in the contract. I don't want her taking off when she finds out I own her ass."

"Hmmm … and what a fine ass she has," Pam cooed before she exited the office.

**A/N: I do not own the characters. I just love them so much, I can't let them stay only in my head.**

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	3. Chapter 3

"Consider this your strike three Sookie. First you piss off a big kahuna like the Viking. Then you disobeyed a direct order to stick to the recipe I gave you. And then you talked back to him like he was one of the drunkards from the backwater dump you used to work at," Tara spat between gritted teeth. "This isn't Louisiana. If you want to last at least a month in this town, you play by the rules. This restaurant is _my_ baby. It has been with me for six fucking years. We only have two rules here: we keep our heads down and our food warm. If you draw unwanted attention to my restaurant again I will be so far up your ass you won't be able to sit straight in a week! Am I making myself clear?"

Sookie bit her tongue before she nodded her assent. She wasn't naïve. She knew what she was getting into when she agreed to take the job. Besides, she was used to people belittling her because she was poor and didn't have a proper education. But the lashing she incurred from Tara was enough to last her a lifetime. And while she knew she deserved it for being callous with a big shot like Eric Northman, Tara was grating on her last nerve. Sookie knew if she didn't tamp down her temper she would lose it, along with her golden ticket that would pull her and Jason out of the pit their father had dug for them.

"It won't happen again, chef," Sookie said timidly. "Can I go home now, or would you like me to help prep for the dinner service?"

Tara looked at the forlorn Southern Belle. While Sookie's ignorance was no excuse, Tara couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Not everyone was cut out to survive in Vegas. She should know considering her humble beginnings herself. After a while, Tara shook her head and casually dismissed Sookie.

Sookie arranged her knives in her pocket knife roll before she took off her chef's jacket. She quietly exited the kitchen through the back door.

'_Stupid Eric Northman!'_ she thought angrily.

She was so consumed with her frustration that she didn't notice the black sedan following her as she made her way toward the bus terminal.

As she silently marched down the street, the black BMW pulled beside her and honked. Sookie was flabbergasted. _'What the hell?! Does this asshole think I'm a hooker? Freakin' great!'_

It was only four o'clock in the afternoon and it wasn't even dark yet.

Her steps quickened on her way to the bus stop, but the car kept following her. Finally, she had mustered enough anger to lash out on the horny idiot. She bent toward the tinted window of the car and tapped it with her fingers. It rolled down t reveal the driver. But just as she was about to spew mean words at the man behind the wheels, she recognized him.

"Bill!"

"Can I give you a ride, Sookie?" Bill, ever the polite gentleman, asked.

Sookie was hesitant for a moment. Bill Compton had been a close family friend of the Stackhouses for a long time because of the proximity of their farmhouses. She had known Bill ever since she was still a little girl. He was 12 years older than her so she and Jason rarely hung out with him.

Corbett and Bill were more alike, talking about grown-up things and, of course, card games. Bill's parents moved to Florida right after Bill finished college and the young gentleman migrated to Las Vegas. Sookie had barely seen him since.

Then, two weeks ago Bill resurfaced in Bon Temps to close the sale of the Compton manor. She, Jason and Bill got together at Lafayette's. Bill found out about the Stackhouse's financial woes and he felt sorry for the siblings.

Bill left Bon Temps the next day but promised to help the Stackhouses out. True to his word, Bill called three days later and offered Sookie the opportunity to work in Fiordillatte.

Bill went to business school with Tara's husband, JV, at Louisiana State University and that was the leverage he used to earn Sookie a spot in the kitchen.

Jason, ever the protective brother, argued at first. He told Bill that he would be more than capable to work in the big city than his younger sister. But Bill told Jason that it was harder to find occupation for Jason in Las Vegas, because like Sookie, he only made it to high school.

Jason was reluctant to let his sister go, but the younger Stackhouse would not take no for an answer.

After much deliberation, Jason finally yielded, but not without making Sookie promise that she would always stay in touch and not _'pull a Corbett'_ on him.

"I'll call you every day, Jase," she swore.

Sookie looked at the knife roll she was clutching and thought that if Bill decided to do something nasty to her, she could always slice and dice him Vegas style.

Sookie, who needed an ally to air her grievances from the brutal day she just had, decided Bill might be the person for the job as she got in the car.

"Are you on your way home?" Bill asked as Sookie strapped on her seatbelt.

Sookie nodded. "Long day."

"I bet," Bill commented offhandedly. "I heard Eric Northman paid you a visit in Fiordillatte." It wasn't a question.

Sookie grimaced as the image of the arrogant bastard popped up in her head again. "Wow, news do travel fast in Vegas."

Bill sniggered. "Eric Northman's a vampire, Sookie. He only goes out at night. So, when he does come out at daytime, its big news around here."

Sookie snorted. _'Of course! I bet nothing's too trivial for the great Eric Northman,'_ she thought acerbically.

"So? What does he want from you?" Bill resumed his query.

"You," Sookie snapped.

Then she realized she wasn't being fair to Bill. He wasn't the one who ambushed her in her workplace and yet she was venting her ire at him. She tried to soften her voice as she kept on. "I don't know if that a-hole's just extremely paranoid or you've really done a number on him. I reckon it's the last one."

Bill chuckled again. "Ding-ding-ding! Jackpot! Eric and I do have a long history together." Sookie glanced at him, puzzled. Bill shook his head. "It isn't a tale for kids, Sookie. Let's just say, while some people collect stamps, Eric collects enemies."

Sookie became pensive. Eric did mention the bad blood between him and Bill. But she wasn't one to pry, she had enough problems of her own to burden herself with other people's grudge match.

"Why don't we grab some dinner, then we can talk some more about everything I missed in Bon Temps," Bill invited. Sookie was starving. All she had eaten that day was the rock-hard blueberry muffin she had for brunch. She hadn't had the chance to eat anything at the restaurant because Eric Northman decided to pester her before she could take her break.

"I'd like that. Thank you, Bill," she acquiesced.

Bill made a turn at the Luxor hotel before he parked his car at the lobby. He handed his keys at the valet before he opened Sookie's door. Sookie was stunned to discover that the famed Vegas pyramid was what Bill meant for dinner. She suddenly felt underdressed for the grandiose surrounding.

"When you said bite, I thought you meant Burger King," she said hesitantly before she shook her head. "I don't think I'm up to something this fancy tonight."

Sookie refused to step out of the car, which earned her a confused glance from the valet service. "I think I'm just gonna head home. It's really a long day and -"

"Sookie," Bill started as he offered his hand to her. "Please let me do this. It's the least I can do for getting you in trouble last night and today, too."

"Ma'am?" the valet guy asked her, as though telling her to get out of the car so he could do his job.

Sookie, who was still hesitant, got out of the passenger's seat while still holding her bag of knives close to her chest.

"I don't think they'll let you inside when you're holding that much lethal weapon," Bill joked.

Embarrassed, Sookie left her knives in the passenger seat. She shortened the strap of her ratty messenger bag before she slung it on her shoulder.

She ran a hand on her black tank top under her red cardigan all the while thanking her lucky stars that she had decided to wear a pair of skinny jeans that emphasized her rear. Her tattered black converse completed her attire and she knew she either looked like a lost tourist or a bug-eyed redneck. Either way she definitely didn't feel like she belonged to this place.

Bill put his arm around her back as he gave her a reassuring pinch on her shoulder. But it wasn't comforting at all because the minute he touched her she felt goose bumps broke across her skin.

To make matters worse, Sookie saw _her_, the leggy blonde from the interrogation room last night.

And she was walking straight at them, with a sly grin on her face that reminded Sookie a lot of Eric.

"Bill, fancy meeting you here," Pam greeted Bill dryly, while stealing a malicious glance at Sookie.

"Pam, what are you doing so far away from the dog house? Won't your master miss you?" Bill replied with an equal dose of sarcasm.

"Oh, now, Billy, we both know you're the one in the dog house," Pam snarked. She fixed her scrutinizing gaze at Sookie. "Hello again, Miss Stackhouse."

Sookie gave her a curt nod as she eyed Pam and Bill warily.

"Don't tell me Eric's buying the pyramid, too?" Bill asked, diverting Pam's attention away from Sookie.

"Don't you wish you knew," Pam replied wryly. "Well, I have to go now. Ta, Miss Stackhouse. I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other more often."

Pam flashed Sookie a cryptic smile before she sauntered toward the lobby. "And don't you worry about Billy, he's all bark and no bite."

Bill glared at Pam, while Sookie followed the leggy blonde's graceful movements as she exited the hotel.

"What's that about?" Sookie asked after Bill nudged her elbow to keep moving.

"Ignore her. She's Eric's right-hand. The one doing all his dirty work for him," Bill replied as they stopped in front of _TENDER_ steak and seafood bistro. "I hope you're not a vegetarian because they do a mean Kobe wagyu here."

Sookie had never been to a restaurant that fancy before and she, not for the last time, felt out of place.

**E/S**

Eric was nursing a glass of scotch while perusing a new batch of contracts on his desk when his secure line rang. He checked the caller ID and grunted when he saw Pam's name.

There were only two reasons why Pam would call him at this hour. First, to ask him to go down at the casino floor to meet and greet a new whale, or to deal with a tedious business-related problem. Eric despised both.

The sun hadn't set yet and he just met with her a couple of hours ago. _'What does she wants now?'_

After a few more rings he finally picked up. Pam could be very annoying if she wanted to be.

"What?" he growled at the receiver.

"Guess who I just saw at the Luxor," she asked in a sing-song voice.

Eric had no time to play the guessing game with Pam. He had a lot of work to do and if he were to acquire Fiordillatte by the end of the week he needed to make a few calls to make sure he wasn't stepping on any toes.

In Vegas, everything, no matter how small or arbitrary, was connected to somebody. Although Eric could easily talk or buy his way out of anything, he didn't like the attention it might draw from the other bigwigs in town.

"I'm busy, Pam, so unless you're going to tell me something of importance -"

"Sookie Stackhouse."

_That_ got his undivided attention.

He put down his drink as he stood up. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was that he found so fascinating with that girl.

It could be her spunk. Pam was right. It wasn't everyday he encountered a girl who wasn't attracted to him, be it for his good looks, his money or his power - _the perfect trifecta_.

But somehow that Southern girl was immune to all of them. Or so she seemed.

Eric had thought it might be her tactic – play hard-to-get. She was a good strategist in poker, after all. But when he went to see her earlier, Sookie was anything but happy with his presence.

All he saw were irritation and resentment, and he didn't think she was faking them. Nobody was _that_ good an actress. He should know since he had dated a lot of them.

However, he didn't need anyone poking at his unusual interest with _her_. Especially not Pam, who could use the girl as ammo to tease him.

"So?" Eric replied coolly, trying to silence the loud thumping inside him by the mere mention of her name.

"Oh. I thought you'd be interested to know of her whereabouts," Pam said, clearly taken aback by his cold demeanor.

When Pam saw Bill and Sookie at the Luxor, she could barely contain her giddiness as she dialed Eric's number.

"I'm not. What she does in her time is her own business. What you do with my time is my business, and frankly, you're wasting it," Eric said sharply. He wanted to get off the phone so he could _calmly_ leave his office and go for a little stroll. He was suddenly in the mood to see a pyramid.

"She's with Compton," Pam said curtly. There was a long pause in the line and Pam started to wonder if the line was disconnected.

Eric was livid. The minute he heard the bastard's name he felt his blood shot up along with his temper. He should have put a bullet between the bastard's eyes when he had the chance seven years ago. He was thinking of ways to get rid of Bill when he caught himself again.

Why was he so crossed that Bill was out with the girl? Eric came out blank.

Finally, the Viking spoke again. "Way to bury the lead, Pam."

"I'm sorry. I thought the girl was more important to you than Bill, that's all."

"Do you still have people following Compton?" Eric asked.

"No. We pulled them out last year when you said he wasn't worth the trouble anymore," Pam replied nervously.

"Bring them back and put another surveillance team on the girl, too." With that, he hung up the phone.

He drummed his fingers on his desk as he debated whether to crash the party or hang back and wait for the report.

He couldn't decide so he called for room service. He wanted a blonde. If only he could get the one blonde he was craving for.

**E/S**

"You did no such thing!" Bill gasped while he cast a sidelong glance at Sookie. "You folded a trio of Kings?"

"I did," Sookie said as she beamed at Bill. "But it's nothing compared to the full house I gave up so you could run the Asian shark over."

Bill's hearty laugh echoed inside the car as he drove Sookie home. "Who would've thought an innocent girl like you could play those whales like a pro?"

"I wasn't really playing them. I only wanted you to stay in the game, because no offense, Bill, but you kinda suck," she jested.

Sookie, unlike Jason, had inherited her father's adeptness in card games. Once in a while she would play with the customers at Lafayette's and she would milk them like cows in the farm. Lafayette didn't seem to mind because Sookie was drawing customers who were eager to buy drinks to ignore the bleeding of their pockets.

But it was only a hobby for Sookie, never a profession. Easy money was always easy to lose - she had learned that the hard way from her father.

Bill wasn't the least bit offended as he continued to laugh. "That's why Eric thought we were conspiring."

"Aren't we?" Sookie asked.

It was Bill who invited her to play, in the first place. He also shouldered the three-hundred-dollar buy-in. He was also the one who picked the table for them, stressing that the players at that particular game were fat sharks who wouldn't mind losing their money. "I mean I thought that was the plan that's why you took the seat across me so we can send signals or somethin'?"

Bill nodded as he pulled up at the curb in front of Sookie's mid-rise apartment building.

"Yes, we are. And we make such a good pair, don't you think?" Bill asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Without waiting for Sookie's response, Bill stepped out of the vehicle and was beside Sookie's door in a jiffy.

Sookie got out of the car and was standing side by side with Bill, who was looking at her expectantly.

"Would you like to do it again sometime?" Bill inquired hopefully. "Like you said, I'm in dire need of your assistance."

Sookie smiled shyly as she hugged her knives' roll to her chest. "I don't know, Bill. I think I've had enough fun with the casinos for a while. Gran will roll over in her grave and tan my hide if she finds out I'm following my father's footsteps," she replied. "Plus, I already gave my word to _his Excellency_ that I will never go back to his casino again."

"Eric doesn't own all the casinos in Vegas, Sookie. Also, I'm banned in all of them. Rest assured we won't be doing our Thelma and Louise act under Northman's nose."

Bill moved closer as he tried to convince Sookie.

Although he had dropped the Southern drawl when he moved to Sin City, he still had a few Southern tricks up his sleeve that he was sure would work on Sookie. She was from Louisiana, after all. And like all girls from the South, she wasn't impervious to a gentleman's allure.

As Bill made his move at Sookie, he didn't notice the dark gray Land Rover SUV lurking at the shadows two lamp posts away from where he was parked. Bill was oblivious to the man behind the wheel who was shooting daggers at him as he watched Sookie squirm under Bill's ministrations.

'_One more step, fucker. Take one more step and I'll break your nose,'_ Eric thought grimly as he observed the couple.

Eric had been waiting for an hour for them outside her building. Her address was among the information Pam had gathered last night.

After he got his release from an up-and-coming model, he went back to his penthouse suite to clear his head.

He could count in one hand all the people allowed inside his top-floor room, because all his other businesses were conducted in his spare room five floors down - including bedding his conquest for the night.

But even after the hot sex, Eric was still on edge. All he could think of while he was fucking the hot blonde model was _her_.

He turned on his laptop and checked the photos his surveillance team had sent him via streaming. His already foul mood even worsened as he stared at _her_ pictures while she was having dinner with Bill. She looked relaxed and jovial.

He slammed the laptop shut. He had seen enough.

Relaxed.

Jovial.

He hadn't seen her like that firsthand. She was either apathetic or infuriated when it came to him.

The Viking didn't know where the sudden surge of emotion was coming from, but he didn't like it one bit. He wouldn't even let himself think of her name, much less say it out loud.

He refused to give the face a name. Because Eric knew once he started thinking of _her_ as an actual human being rather than just an entity in his vast universe, then that would be admitting that she actually mattered.

Eric clutched the steering wheel tightly as he watched Bill and Sookie's interaction. Bill was still waiting for her response and Eric couldn't help the smile that graced his face when he saw her take a small step back as she clutched her bag to her chest.

'_Classic defensive stance, that's my girl!'_ Eric froze as his thought sank in. _'My girl?! Fucking hell is happening to me!'_

He was pulled out of his musings when he saw Bill took her hand and planted a kiss on it. It took all of Eric's restraints not to jump out of his car and take a swing at the smarmy bastard.

A minute later, he saw Sookie walk inside the building.

Eric took out his cellphone and pressed number two.

"I can't wait until the next week to get Fiordillatte. I want it sooner. Make it happen, Pam."

'_I want** her** now!'_

**A/N: I do not own the characters. I just love Eric so much that his internal musings keep me up all night. **

**I'm sorry I'm not able to answer any of the reviews. But I LOVE them all so much! You guys are spoiling me! **

**It's a holiday here in my place today and it's a bit hectic at work. I have written the first three chapters in advance so I'm able to post them in regular intervals. Hopefully, tomorrow won't be as gruesome as today so I can write the continuation of this story. **

**Thank you SO much for your reviews and alerts! They really make the gruelling days, sufferable. **

**PS: MyVikingBoyfriend's third installment for her magnum opus, The Real Me, is also out. Check it out! It's her own take of season five and it's gooood!**


	4. Chapter 4

Sookie was at Fiordillate early the next day. She even helped Selah and Terry unload the fresh produce from the delivery truck. She had given herself a pep talk last night before she went to bed that she wouldn't squander this opportunity by messing around. She would prove to Tara that she was professional and that she was here to work and learn.

Sookie was busy helping Selah prep for the lunch service when she heard Tara and JV arguing in the office. Sookie wasn't sure what time the owners got in because she was at the farthest corner of the kitchen with Terry, one of the line cooks in-charge of the fish dishes. Terry was teaching her how to clean and fillet a salmon when Tara burst out the door. Terry and Selah exchanged quizzical glances when JV stepped out of the kitchen into the dining hall.

"Not our business," Terry murmured to Selah, who was craning her neck toward the back door to keep a lookout for Tara.

Terry was sweet and mild-mannered. He was also from the South, New Orleans to be exact. Polite and hardworking. He was buddies with JV since they were in high school and that was how he landed the job in Fiordillate. Terry was among the first ones to give Sookie a warm welcome.

'_Head down, food warm,' _Sookie kept repeating to herself. She would do everything by the book today. No one would put a damper on her pleasant mood. Not even a first-rate ass like Eric Northman.

Tara went back in the kitchen and talked to Selah. From the corner of her eye Sookie could see Selah bobbing her head in assent before she saw Tara heading in their direction.

"Sookie, would you mind staying until the dinner service? JV and I are meeting a few people later and Selah could use an extra set of hands," Tara asked evenly.

"Sure will," Sookie replied enthusiastically. This day was already looking hunky dory for her. _'Hello, overtime pay!'_

Tara gave her a soft pat in the back to thank her before the head chef clapped her hands twice to get the lunch shift in full swing.

The hours passed by quickly for Sookie, who was on her feet for eight hours before she had the chance to take her break at four o clock to rest between shifts. She went inside the employees' quarters and rinsed her face at the sink beside the lockers.

She sat at the small couch against the wall to rest her feet. She raised her feet on the plastic stool beside the couch and started punching her legs to loosen her stiff muscles. Then Selah came in and sat beside her.

"Fridays always make me wanna kill myself. People don't wanna cook at home anymore because they're so tired from the weekday and too excited for the weekend," Selah commented with a groan. "And this is the day Tara decided to head out."

Sookie kept mum. She didn't want to make any comments that could get her in trouble later. She was the new kid on the block and she was not supposed to have any opinion about the boss.

It was different for Selah, though. Although Selah was only four years older than her, Selah was a more accomplished cook - maybe even more competent than Tara herself. Selah was classically trained at Le Cordon Bleu in New York, so in a way she had earned her right to bitch especially when she was the one shouldering the heavy load in the absence of the head chef.

'_Head down, food warm.'_

"Did Tara tell you?" Selah kept on. "JV was thinking of selling the restaurant. They were out to meet with the buyers now."

Well, shit.

"What will happen to us if they decide to sell?" Sookie asked warily. It was dumb luck she was at Fiordillatte.

What would happen to her if the new owners decided to lay off the workers? Selah had job security because of her impressive resume, and the other staff had been in the restaurant business far longer than Sookie. She could only imagine going back to Bon Temps empty-handed, more desperate than before.

"Tara doesn't want to. That's what they were fighting about. But Tara said the offer is very tempting. And the prospective buyer wants to seal the deal before the week ends," Selah explained. "Probably some nouveau-riche who wants something to her name so she can rub elbows with Vegas royalty."

Sookie contemplated the idea. She didn't care if the purchaser had a severe case of impulse-buying. The only thing that mattered to Sookie was keeping her job.

So when Tara asked Sookie the next day to sign a two-year contract with Fiordillatte, she couldn't ask for a pen fast enough.

After the end of the Saturday lunch shift, Tara and JV called for a meeting. They told the whole staff of the big changes that would take place at Fiordillatte in the next couple of days, starting with the employers. That earned a collective gasp from the wait staff because, thanks to Selah, almost everyone in the kitchen knew about the sale.

Tara and JV thanked everyone for six years of loyal service. Some cried as they gave Tara and JV farewell hugs. But Selah was another story. The brunette _sous chef_ could barely contain her excitement. Apparently, the new owners were very agreeable to Tara's conditions to retain the staff.

Tara and JV were both ecstatic when they announced that they would be taking an indefinite holiday in Italy.

Tara had always wanted to go back to Europe, the place that kindled her love for food, but never really had enough money to just lay back and relax. But with the deal they got for Fiordillatte, they could finally afford to pamper themselves, with a lot to spare to start another business when they came back.

Selah would be taking the post vacated by Tara while the new owner had free reign to delegate the tasks among the rest of the staff, with the caveat that the new employer would honor the workers' contracts signed prior to the sale.

Upon hearing the condition, Sookie checked the date in the copy of the contract she signed and heaved a sigh of relief when she saw it was dated on the day she started working. Sookie realized that her neurotic boss did her a huge favour. Sookie suddenly felt the urge to hug her soon-to-be former employer.

Tara also told them that although the contract was yet to be formalized on Monday when office resumed, the new owners would be starting with the minor tweaking in the restaurant for the next couple of days, which meant the rest of them could enjoy a long weekend before the welcome dinner on Wednesday.

Tara tasked Selah to plan a menu for the re-opening dinner, so she could start impressing the new owners.

Before Sookie left that afternoon, Tara called her in her office. "Sit down, Sookie."

Sookie was not sure what to expect, Tara didn't ask the other employees for some one-on-one time. She didn't realize she was fidgeting in her seat until Tara gave her a sharp look.

"I signed a non-disclosure contract so I can't divulge who the buyer is until the big reveal on Wednesday. I can advise you, however, to read your contract thoroughly. It's the same with the others. The owners cannot terminate your services without a solid ground, keep that in mind."

Sookie was taken aback by the seriousness in Tara's voice. She suddenly had an ominous feeling toward the new owners. Tara sensed Sookie's anxiety and immediately relaxed her stance. Tara leaned back on her chair and started shuffling through a stack of papers on the table.

"Don't worry about it. As long as you keep your head down and do your job properly you'll be alright," Tara said before she dismissed Sookie for the day.

* * *

**E/S**

"It's done," Pam said through the other line. She waited until noon to call Eric because she knew he had a late night the previous night.

She hadn't seen him since Thursday afternoon when he asked her to purchase Fiordillatte. And she hadn't spoken to him since he called her up that night and ordered her to expedite the transaction with the Italian bistro.

"Very well," he answered in a croaky voice. He was already up for a couple of hours but he felt lethargic that he decided to stay in bed. "When will the renovation start? I want it done as soon as possible. I will not have that shithole become a money pit."

"I've already arranged for the contractors to start the make-over after the restaurant closes tonight. The former owners requested that we hire their contractors, which were cheaper than what we usually pay so I said it okay. It's okay, right?" Pam asked. Eric didn't like to by-passed especially when it came to company decisions. But since the restaurant wasn't a major deal, she didn't think he would care.

"I don't care. As long as they finish the renovation before the opening, then it's fine by me," Eric replied.

"It'll be ready on Wednesday for the re-opening party. Shall I start sending out invitations?"

"Yes. I want a grand opening. I have faith in your impeccable taste. Make it look classy. And add a piano bar, too," Eric instructed.

"Will I see you tonight?" Pam asked cautiously.

"I'll meet you later. Let's have dinner at the Venetian make the reservations at AquaKnox at eight. I want to see the designs you picked. That'll be all, Pam." Eric didn't wait for her reply as he disconnected the line. Pam was used to his telephone manners – or the lack thereof – so she wasn't put out with his rude demeanor.

Eric jumped off the bed and drew the curtains to let the light through in his suite. The night he waited for _her_ outside her apartment, he was so enraged that he went straight to the exclusive burlesque club downtown to distract himself.

After half an hour of mindless show, not to mention the constant gawking of the women in the club, he decided the place wasn't worth his time. He drove back to The North and went to the casino and then later at the bar. But nothing and no one seemed to hold his attention for more than a few minutes.

He called for another room service and asked for a red-head or a brunette. _Anything but blonde_. The foxy red-head he slept with was downright magnificent but he couldn't get to find his release with her.

He tried a stunning brunette but nothing could stop his mind from wandering back to a certain blonde. Three billion women in the world and he couldn't take his mind off the one person who hadn't said a single nice thing to him since they met.

Even _her_ seemingly permanent scowl or her apathetic eyes were more endearing compared to the dazzling women who were throwing themselves at him.

Two hours later, he went back to his suite, sorely disappointed.

He downed his frustrations with a bottle of whiskey, which he regretted instantly when he woke up the next day with a massive hangover.

Eric didn't get out of his room until it was completely dark. He managed to avoid Pam as he made his usual route in the security area and casino floor. He told Sam to tell Pam not to disturb him for the rest of the night because he would be going to his other two hotels.

That was a lie. He got out of the security floor and stealthily went upstairs using the service elevator that he knew Sam wouldn't be monitoring closely. He went back to his suite and chugged down half a bottle of scotch.

When he woke up with yet another killer migraine, he took a couple of aspirin and downed a bottle of Gatorade then came back to bed, fully intent on staying in until the sun went down.

But after Pam's very pleasing news, Eric felt invigorated.

He stretched out his long limbs before he hopped into the shower. He dialed room service and, for the first time in two days, he ordered a real meal.

* * *

**E/S**

"Jason!" Sookie squealed as she opened the door to her tiny apartment and saw her brother staring right at her, grinning like a loon. "Holy shit! You scared me half to death!"

Jason pulled her in and caged her in his arms. "I missed you, Sook!"

"H-How? How are you here? Where did you get the money to buy the ticket?" Sookie said as she drew back from him to check if he were real. She still couldn't believe her brother was in Las Vegas with her. "Tell me you didn't sell the house or spent all your money just to check up on me! 'Coz if you do I swear, I'm gonna lose it. You know we can't afford -"

"Chill, Sook! Damn!" Jason cut her off, cradling her face with his hands. "Before you go batshit on me, hear me out first, 'kay?"

Sookie bobbed her head.

"I'm here with Alcide. JV, your boss, called him up and asked him to handle the renovations for that restaurant you're working at. And guess who's the lucky guy he brought with him?" Jason asked with his two thumbs pointing at his chest, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

Sookie let out a sigh of relief as she stared at her brother. "Oh, shit! That's awesome, Jase!"

"Ya, it is!" Jason agreed as he waltzed into the living room and slumped onto the small couch in front of the television. "Sweet crib you've got here, Sook!"

Sookie locked the door behind her and followed him. She squeezed herself beside him and propped her legs on top of the coffee table that went with the sofa.

"Where's Alcide?" Sookie asked as she massaged her legs through her jeans. "And how did you get in here? Don't tell me you've rigged the locks. The landlord will kill me!"

"I didn't! Will you please relax? Bill gave me your address and the _landlady_ let me in after I showed her my ID."

Sookie shook her head in derision. Her brother's charm with women was truly legendary. Jason was attractive with his short, tousled blonde hair that was the same shade as hers, brown eyes and athletic physique, which he developed from playing quarterback in high school and lifting cement bags at work.

Jason knew his asset was his toned upper body and he was not ashamed to flaunt it by wearing body-hugging shirts and singlets - like the one he was wearing now.

Sookie recalled all the times she would groan in disgust when a woman fell for Jason's tedious antics and pick-up lines. "If only you could use your charms to pay off our debt."

"Maybe I still can. It seems my devilish good looks also work with the ladies here. Maybe I can sideline in the Boulevard. If you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows at her mischievously. Sookie slapped him hard on the shoulders.

Her brother's arrogance reminded her so much of Eric Northman and she didn't like it.

"Ow! What's that for?" Jason cried as he rubbed his shoulder blade, where Sookie's palm left a red mark.

"For being such a smug SOB," Sookie snapped. "So, are you gonna tell me where Alcide is?"

Alcide Herveaux was the son of the owner of Herveaux Contracts, where Jason and her father worked. He and Jason were really close since they both shared a passion for football, monster trucks and lager.

Unlike Jason, Alcide wasn't a ladies' man although he wasn't hard on the eyes with his russet skin, thick jet-black hair and green eyes. His ripped muscles that would put Jason's pecs to shame didn't hurt either.

But Alcide's good heart was his most appealing asset to Sookie. He would always drop by the Stackhouse farmhouse to check on Sookie every now and then, especially after her Gran died.

Alcide would hang out at the farmhouse, bringing meat and corn to barbecue. Sookie wasn't sure but she thought it was Alcide's way of helping them out without making it look like charity. Alcide knew Sookie was too proud to accept hand-outs.

Sookie wouldn't admit it to anybody but she always had a crush on the scruffy guy. But Sookie wasn't about to flirt with Alcide. She was too busy trying to live her life as normally as she could to bother herself with trivial things such as infatuation, or worse, _love_.

While some girls her age would go to movies and dates, Sookie would be peeling garlic cloves by the bucket to earn extra cash from Lafayette. While other teenagers would whine to their parents for not having the trendiest clothes, Sookie would argue with her Gran and Jason when they practically dragged Sookie to the surplus shop in Shreveport when her clothes got too ratty to wear outside.

And while girls her age cry over a broken heart, Sookie would shed tears for her father, her Gran and all the people she loved and left.

She could feel her throat closing up again as she tried to keep her tears at bay when Jason's voice snapped her back to the present.

"He's meeting with JV and the new top dog. They want the renovation to start tonight when they close up at midnight. I think we'll be pulling an all-nighter. Alcide brought four more guys with him so we can work in shifts. He gave me tomorrow morning's shift so I can spend some time with you first since we'll only be here for less than a week."

"I wonder why the new owners didn't just hire a local contractor? Not that I'm complaining," she added immediately when Jason gave her a look of protest. "It just sounds impractical, is all."

"I think we have JV to thank for that. I heard it was Alcide's dad who built that restaurant so JV requested if the same contractors could do the renovation since the Herveaux's had the original blueprint. Plus them Vegas builders' cost an arm and a leg. Alcide's the much cheaper choice."

JV and Tara had really helped Sookie in ways they could not imagine and she promised to say an extra prayer for them to have a safe trip to Europe.

"Hey Jase, do you wanna go and see the Strip?" Sookie asked her brother.

The blessings she had received that day put her in a merry mood. She still had her winnings from the poker game she played at The North and she had already paid Bill the three hundred dollars buy-in he shelled out for her.

That left her with five hundred dollars more. Sookie smirked as she thought of that night. She really did a number on those sharks, and if it weren't for Eric Northman's meddling, she would have cleaned them out easy.

"Let's go out and have a nice dinner. My treat. What do you say?" she asked Jason again who thought she was only joking.

Jason didn't even take his eyes off the television screen as he browsed through the local channels – because Sookie didn't have cable. "Stop kidding with me, Sook. I know you don't have the money. At least not yet."

"I'm freakin' serious you twerp! I've got money, see," she took out her wallet and showed him the bills tucked neatly inside.

"Bumblefuck! What did you do?! Where did you get that much money?" Jason's eyes widened at the sight of a few hundred dollar bills. Sookie snorted at Jason's reaction. _'Man, we really are as poor as dirt.'_

"The less you know, the better," her voice dropped low, almost conspiratorial. But the roguish glint in her eyes gave her away. Jason seized her in a headlock as he ruffled her hair. Sookie struggled against his grip as she tried to punch him on the chest.

While she was fighting her brother off, Sookie couldn't help the laughter that escaped her lips. Probably the single most genuine laugh she had since she came to Vegas.

That moment transported Sookie back to the happier days - the days when they were still oblivious to the real world that had done nothing but kicked them in the gut.

When she and Jason would fight over silly things like the TV remote or the last slice of their Gran's pecan pie - Sookie wished for those days back.

* * *

**E/S**

"Just like old times, eh Sook?" Jason teased her as they watched the fountain show outside the Bellagio.

Sookie let out a hearty laugh. "Yep. The only difference is the cows here are fatter and better dressed."

As they had dinner at McDonald's at the Strip, Sookie rehashed the eventful evening she had with Bill when they hustled the poker tables at The North. She omitted the part where Eric Northman decided to haul them in and interrogate her. Jason would only worry about her and he might use the older brother card and drag her back to Bon Temps.

"You think its beginner's luck?" he asked in a challenging tone. Sookie knew that tone too well. That was the same tone he used when he would dare her to do something stupid and would get them into trouble with their Gran.

"You know it's not," she retorted. She was in a merry mood that she might call his bluff if he pushed hard enough.

"Prove it," Jason dared.

"Challenge accepted."

They sealed their wager with a hand shake.

And that was how they ended up at the Venetian.

Sookie and Jason had never been to the Venetian and the two siblings' eyes widened in awe as they gazed at the indoor streetscape complete with gondolas and singing gondoliers which were part of the Venice-themed ambience of the hotel.

They cursed their bad luck that they didn't own a camera so they could brag back home that they had been to Italy. Although they doubted anyone would believe them, it was still worth a try. Hoyt, the sweet but gullible Fortenberry, might even fall for it.

Sookie decided to treat her and Jason to a little luxury as they rode a gondola for 64 bucks. And the best part was it came with a souvenir photo!

The Stackhouse siblings were so immersed with the grandiose surrounding that they didn't notice the pair of eyes watching them with bewilderment.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric arrived at The Venetian an hour early so he decided to take a leisurely stroll around the second floor at the Grand Canal replica. He remembered when his father brought him there for the unveiling of the famed resort and casino. The Italian-themed hotel didn't impress Eric having seen the real Venice numerous times since he was a little boy.

Fourteen years later and he still wasn't impressed.

He cringed involuntarily when he heard the booming voice of a gondolier as he belted out a traditional _barcarole_. It was all too pretentious for Eric. He paused at the middle of the small bridge to take a look at the pitiful passengers who were fooled, yet again, by the allure of the gondoliers.

Eric didn't really understand the phrase _'take your breath away'_ until now, because the woman, giggling like a child, wrapped under a man's outstretched arm certainly stole the breath from his chest.

The gondola she was riding had passed his bridge and was now making a U-turn.

_She_ would see him!

He squatted down so he could hide behind the stone railing of the bridge. But because he was so tall the top of his head was still popping out. He cursed under his breath. If anyone he knew could see how pathetic he looked, he would be the laughing stock in Vegas. He carefully slipped his mobile phone out of his pocket and dropped it on the floor. He pretended to fetch it as he stood up slowly and trained his face to look bored.

He saw a few tourists, mostly young females, following his movements. He clenched his jaw as he started walking toward the direction of the boat.

Eric was so stunned to see _her_ that he barely acknowledged her companion.

Eric's eyes narrowed when he took in her company. That guy was too cozy with _her_ for his own good. Eric's steps quickened when he saw her alighting the gondola. Her _friend_, the man with the goofy look on his face, slung his arm over her shoulder and Eric had never wanted to strangle a man so badly in his life.

He kept following her – them – from a safe distance. He wouldn't want her thinking he was stalking her because he wasn't.

He wasn't, was he?

He pinched his eyes shut to get the erratic thought from his head. _'I'm not stalking her,'_ he repeated to himself.

They went straight to the gondola booth to claim their picture. Eric watched with growing envy as she tried to grab the photograph from the prick who was dangling it over her head like a wuss.

Eric imagined the look on her face if he were to go over there and yank the picture from the prick to hand to her. Would she be grateful? Happy? Or cordial, at least?

He was jolted out of his musings when he felt his cellphone vibrate inside his pocket. _'Pam.'_

He was supposed to meet her half an hour ago! He tucked himself beside the wall of one of the shops at the Grand Canal so he wouldn't be visible to _her_.

"Pam."

"Where are you? You didn't forget we're supposed to meet at AquaKnox at eight, right?" Pam sounded irritated but she kept her voice leveled.

"Rain check," Eric replied. "I'll be at The North before midnight. We'll talk then. Put your dinner on my tab. See you later." Then, as usual, he disconnected the line before Pam could blurt out a protest.

Eric went back to check on _her_. He was starting to panic when he couldn't see her from the booth. He was about to call the people who were assigned to follow her when he saw a glimpse of her lustrous blonde hair at the escalator that was going down.

'_It's official. I'm now a stalker. Fuck!'_

* * *

**A/N: I do not own the characters. I only want to try out some of my fantasies with our favorite Viking. **

**You guys! You blow me away! Reviews and feedback are more powerful than Red Bull. I'm like a kid with a heavy sugar rush as I typed away on my laptop to be able to get this chapter done. I love, love, love y'all! **

**PS: I cannot plug MyVikingBoyfriend's stories enough. She was the one who urged me push through with this story. And for that I'm thankful.**

**To my zealous readers, I will try to answer your reviews as soon as I knock the next couple of chapters. Unlike Sookie, I'm not too busy - and way too shameless - to tell you how much I love you and your thoughts. **


	5. Chapter 5

Eric was treated like royalty the minute he entered the casino. People treated him with deference.

Rasul, the floor manager at the Venetian, nervously greeted him as he sauntered inside the executive lounge that had the perfect view of the poker tables.

He saw _her_ go straight to the poker area so he circled the floor and took the short escalator that led to the mezzanine overlooking the poker tables.

"Mr. Northman, no one alerted me that you'd be joining us tonight. I would have set up your private table," Rasul said, his voice shaking with trepidation.

Eric unbuttoned his blazer as he sat casually on the high-back chair and crossed his legs. "It's a spur of the moment thing, Rasul, don't worry about it."

Rasul, who was already sweating bullets despite the low temperature in the gaming area, visibly relaxed as he called in a barmaid to take Eric's drink order.

"The usual," was Eric's curt reply when asked for his drink of choice.

"Double scotch, neat," said Rasul to the hostess to make sure she didn't give Eric the wrong order. It had happened once, two years ago, Eric was unwinding at the lounge when the hostess handed him whiskey instead of scotch.

Eric never said a word. He only stood up and walked away. The next day, the barmaid was fired and Rasul was slapped with a two-week suspension.

Eric never got his order wrong since then.

"If there's anything else you need Mr. Northman -"

"Actually, there is," Eric interjected. Rasul bent down instantly as he waited for Eric's commands. "I'd like to speak with the pit boss at the poker section in half an hour."

"Certainly, Mr. Northman. He'll be with you in 30 minutes."

"That'll be all."

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie was on a roll.

She was the master of the game. No one could tell her hand. She would bet moderately at some point as she waited for the whales to take the bait and other times she would go all-in even before the flop or the community cards were drawn.

When she took the seat at the no-limit table, she could feel the hunger vibrating off the high rollers as they eyed her like a minnow in the pool of sharks.

But after her third big win, they started to look at her differently. They were quick to come to the conclusion that they were being played - and not in a funny ha-ha way.

While Sookie held her composure with ease, Jason was a nervous wreck. He couldn't stand behind her because the casino did not allow lurkers around the table. So he could only observe her from his seat at the players' lounge.

All Jason could see was Sookie dragging - or in poker terms, _shipping_ - the chips by the bulk. He was on his third beer and was getting more fidgety by the minute.

Sookie had been playing for more than an hour and Jason watched in glee as players after players stood from the table empty handed.

Sookie glanced at her brother's direction as she beckoned him to her side. She was ready to call it a night and she wanted him to cash in the chips. Sookie bid the remaining players adieu and she sniggered when they responded with a collective grunt.

'Hit and run' was the term they were looking for to describe her, she thought.

She was slinging her bag over her shoulder when the pit boss approached her. "Good evening, Miss. Must be your lucky night."

It took all of Sookie's control not to roll her eyes at him. She knew what he wanted. He was asking for a tip. She was used to people asking for a little share of her winnings when she played with the locals in Bon Temps.

Vegas, apparently, was no different. Here was a man, who was better dressed than her, asking for a sliver of her _'lucky night.'_

She wanted so much to just ignore him and walk away but her Gran taught her to be at her best behavior at all times. So she flashed him a sickly sweet smile before she started sidestepping him.

"If you permit it, I'd like to invite you to a private game at the _Paiza_. It's our exclusive club. Very high end and by invitation only. Your company is welcome to join you as well," the pit boss asked politely.

'_Well, that was unexpected,' _Sookie mused.

She and Jason exchanged a wary glance before she responded.

"Um … It's kinda late and I don't think my pocket is deep enough for that kind of game," she declined sweetly.

"Between you and me, ma'am, the player inviting you is a _donkey_. If I'm allowed to bet, my money's on you," the pit boss said furtively.

Jason, who was listening in on the conversation, raised one finger to the pit boss while he mouthed, "one minute."

He pulled Sookie aside and started speaking in a hushed tone. "This could be it, Sook. What do you say? One time, Matilda!" That was the expression their father commonly used when he wanted something so badly.

According to Corbett, when you ask Matilda hard enough, she would grant it, at least once. Sookie and Jason had no idea who Matilda was, but it was catchy enough that they began using the phrase as well.

"You're on fire, Sook! Those chumps don't stand a snow ball's chance in hell against you. I can feel it, seriously! And aren't you at least a bit curious what a _Paiza_ looks like?"

Actually, she was interested to see where the big guns lose all their money.

"Alright! One time, Matilda!" she finally conceded.

She glanced at the tray of chips in Jason's hands and felt a surge of pride. She won at least a few thousand bucks, with a three-hundred-dollar capital to buy-in.

The _Paiza_ was located at the high-stakes gaming area, which was isolated from the main gaming floor. Sookie and Jason were ushered in an opulent room, where a blank-faced female dealer and a beautiful, elegantly dressed hostess were waiting.

Jason whistled in delight as he basked in the luxurious surrounding. "Now _this_ is a poker room!"

The hostess handed Sookie and Jason champagne flutes upon their arrival and asked them to take their seat while they wait for her opponent.

The room was lavish. It had velvet-lined walls adorned with two large paintings of what Sookie could assume was the real Venice Grand Canal. The table was top-of-the line and as Sookie ran her hand over it, she almost sighed at how soft the deerskin leather felt under her touch.

She and Jason sat at the high bar stools set against the wall. It was designed for the non-playing guests who wanted to watch the game.

She wondered who the other player would be. She had the impression it would be a one-on-one game from what the pit boss had told her. Her skin was tingling with anticipation when the room swung open, revealing the _supposed_ donkey she was going to mop the floor with.

'_Oh, shit.'_

* * *

**E/S**

Eric took a few deep breaths before he waltzed in the door, keeping his face stoic, unaffected.

But it was damn hard.

There were four people in the room, gaping at him as he entered but he only had eyes for _her_. Eric couldn't help the satisfied smirk that graced his face when he saw her part her lips as though the wind was knocked out of her.

"You have got to be kiddin' me," she murmured incredulously, her eyes trained on the newcomer.

Sookie hopped off her stool, her face flushed with contempt. "Don't tell me you own this place, too?"

Three set of eyes looked back and forth at Sookie and Eric.

"You know this guy, Sook?" Jason asked as he stood beside her.

"Unfortunately," Sookie grumbled, never taking her eyes off Eric.

Eric swaggered toward Sookie and Jason. There was something riveting about Eric Northman, even Sookie had to admit that. He could overwhelm a room full of people with a single stare. And the worst part of it was he was doing it without exerting any effort.

"I do not own this place, Miss Stackhouse. Otherwise, I won't be able to play. Conflict of interest," Eric muttered coolly as he reached her. He turned his gaze to the dumbfounded Jason. "I see you have company." Eric gave Jason a once-over.

"Eric Northman." He offered Jason his hand to the older Stackhouse and the latter took it and gave it a firm shake.

"Jason Stackhouse," Jason said, trying to make his voice sound as authoritative as Eric's, but failed miserably.

Eric's face instantly brightened. _'He's the brother! How could I have missed it?!'_

Eric returned his attention to Sookie, who was clearly discomfited by his presence.

"Shall we, Miss Stackhouse?" Eric asked.

"If this is some kind of sick power play, Mr. Northman, you can count me out. I'm not _that_ desperate," Sookie snarled. "I'll tell you to shove your pity cash where the sun don't shine but I think it's already there."

"Did you say pity or petty?" Eric asked with a hint of levity.

Sookie raised her brow at him. "Is there a difference with you?"

Eric smiled. _There_ was the spunk that had caught his attention.

"Surely there's something else we can wager on," Eric said. "From my experience, Miss Stackhouse, everybody needs something from me."

Sookie had never met someone so full of himself in all her twenty three years. And that was saying something considering her brother was Bon Temps' resident narcissist.

"Get over yourself, Mr. Northman. There's not enough money in the world that can give me what I want."

The dealer and the hostess were getting uneasy. They knew who Eric Northman was. Everyone in Vegas did.

No one could talk back to the Viking that way and lived to tell about it.

They looked nervously at each other, both thinking the same thing: _Sookie must have had a death wish_.

"Are you sure about that? Why don't you take a minute and think again," Eric said.

Sookie huffed in exasperation before she took Jason by his wrist and marched toward the door. Eric's shoulder sagged as he watched her leave.

Then just as he was about to admit defeat, Sookie twirled around and faced him. "You know, on second thought. I do want something from you."

Eric smiled and stared at her expectantly. "Do tell."

"Your absence," she spat, "Can you make yourself disappear? So I won't have to see you _ever_ again?" Sookie congratulated herself for coming up with some snarky parting line.

However, Eric's response pulled her out of her triumphant mood.

"You've got a deal," Eric replied. "If I lose, I'll make myself scarce. I'm sure this town is big enough for the two of us. I'll even double your chips as an added bonus."

Jason's jaw dropped at the prospect of doubling their winnings as he looked at his sister beseechingly.

Sookie let go Jason's wrist as she eyed Eric suspiciously. "What if _I_ lose?"

"Have dinner with me," he answered without missing a beat.

'_Well, I'll be damned,'_ Sookie thought in surprise. "Why?"

"Why not?" Eric replied with a wily grin.

"Am not gonna sleep with you," Sookie blurted out.

Eric, who was sipping champagne, almost choked on his drink at her blunt words.

"Aren't you a bit cocky, Miss Stackhouse?" Eric asked condescendingly. "Do I look like someone who would go out of his way for a fuck?"

"Then what is it exactly that you want from me?" Sookie asked. She could feel her face flushing. She only hoped Eric would think it was from anger and not from embarrassment.

"Answers. I still don't know what your affiliation with Compton is," Eric replied. He didn't like the taste of Bill's name in his mouth. He didn't know how long he could keep pretending that his growing interest with her was based solely on her connection with Compton. He wasn't even sure it ever was.

Eric never took his eyes off Sookie as she turned thoughtful.

"And don't worry, Miss Stackhouse, I won't rake in your winnings. Like you said it's just petty cash for me," Eric added.

"No. If we're gonna do this, I wanna be treated as an equal. My money is as green as yours, Mr. Northman. If I lose, you can have these." Sookie took the tray from Jason and laid it in the middle of the table.

Jason started to argue with Sookie. But his protests died on his lips when his sibling glared at him.

Eric smiled lazily before he nodded at the croupier. "Deal it."

"Hold on a minute, how are we gonna do this? I can't play cash game with you. I only have these," Sookie tilted her head toward her tray of chips on the table.

Eric took another sip of his drink before he replied. "We'll have a thousand-dollar buy-in. No re-buy. First to lose all their chips, wins. Does that sound fair to you?"

Jason was like a blur as he grabbed the tray off the table and took out ten black chips, exactly a thousand dollars worth. He handed the chips to Sookie before he moved back toward the cocktail table behind her. He'd be a fool to let his sister's pride squander that much cash.

Eric snorted subtly as he watched her brother protect her winnings like hound. Sookie gave Jason an irritated look before she took the third seat from the dealer's left side. The dealer's button - a favorite among the professional players.

But the Viking didn't care about the position with the most advantage. He wanted the spot where he would have the best view in the house as he sat at the dealer's immediate right, which was angled perfectly across _her_.

* * *

**E/S**

Jason gave Sookie a soft pat on her shoulder for good luck as he perched himself on the bar stool by the cocktail table, where he could observe the game.

He had complete faith in Sookie.

She wasn't only adept in reading her opponent's cards, she was also a walking lie detector. He couldn't get anything past her. Sometimes he felt like she was inside his head, reading his thoughts.

Sookie was skilled in deciphering a person's tell. Everyone has a tell, she would always say. Even their father was no match to Sookie's sharp eyes.

The dealer shuffled the deck twice before the hostess cut it. Then she handed Eric and Sookie two cards each.

Jason slanted sideways to peek at Sookie's cards. He almost jumped off his seat when he saw an Ace of Hearts and King of Diamonds. _'Jackpot!'_

Jason looked away immediately as he waved at the hostess for a refill.

'_Dog burn it! Don't smile! Don't you fuckin' smile, Stackhouse! Flirt with the waitress, pronto! Before tall and blondie looks at you,' _Jason instructed himself before he flashed the approaching hostess a Cheshire grin.

Sookie was the first to call so she went in and called for a pre-flop raise. She didn't want this match to drag on and the sooner she could wipe out Eric Northman's chips the better.

Eric peeked at his cards before he looked at Sookie. Her face was blank, as expected. Her brother, however, was laughable. Eric stopped himself from shaking his head in derision as he watched Jason try hard to flirt with the waitress in his futile effort to avert his eyes from the table. He was trying _too_ hard, Eric thought.

'_This is too easy,'_ Eric mused before he folded his cards.

Sookie was disappointed but she would be damned if she let Eric Northman notice it. Instead, she focused her attention to reading the smug bastard.

Eric Northman, Sookie realized, had an impeccable poker face.

His features were schooled to look indifferent.

He was good. But not perfect.

With a little more effort, Sookie started picking up his tell.

A few more hands were dealt but Eric and Sookie were playing it tight, refusing to play the pot with a bad set of cards. The room was silent, no one, not even Jason, dared to interrupt the unnerving silence that blanketed the room.

Eric fought his instinct to interrogate her brother. There would be enough time for that when he claimed his prize.

Sookie was also mum as she concentrated on her strategy while avoiding Eric's intense gaze.

Sookie won twice but they were small pots because Eric wasn't calling her bluff.

Eric also bagged a pot once, but like Sookie, it didn't even make a dent on her stack.

Then _it_ came: the killer hand.

The croupier dealt the cards. Sookie peered at hers and bit her inner cheek to keep from grinning.

Jason tilted his head to look at his sister's cards. He almost dropped the Cuban cigar he was twirling in his fingers like a small baton.

Sookie's cards were a pair of Aces, Clubs and Hearts. _'Pocket Aces! Score! C'mon Sook, this is it! Go for the kill!'_

One look at Jason's face and Eric knew Sookie had _the_ pair. He waited for her move, ready to fold if she went all-in.

But Sookie didn't go all-in. She never even called for a raise.

'_Okay, I'll bite,'_ Eric thought in amusement.

Eric called and raised double. Sookie took a few seconds to call.

Then the Flop came: Ten of Spades, Ace of Diamonds, Jack of Spades.

Sookie now had three aces. Jason could no longer contain his excitement as he took the seat beside his sister. Sookie tried hard not to glare at her sibling. She knew Jason meant well but his actions were giving her hand away.

"What are you doin' with that?" Sookie asked looking pointedly at the cigar Jason was playing with. She was trying to divert Eric's attention away from her.

"It's Cuban, Sook. This sweet lady told me it's very pricey and they're just giving 'em away here like freakin' candies."

"So? Are you gonna be a smoker now?" Sookie asked again, irritation evident in her voice.

"'Course not! I'm givin' it to old man Jackson. For lettin' Alcide bring me, y'know?" Jason flashed her a sheepish smile.

Sookie seemed relieved but still didn't think it was a good idea to bring Mr. Jackson something that could ruin his lungs.

Eric cleared his throat to pull Sookie's attention back to the game - and to _him_.

Sookie tapped on the table to check.

Eric knew she was trying to distract him from reading her brother's moves. Eric called and raised again all the while watching Jason's reaction.

Jason looked away from the table and smiled at the hostess.

'_This is fucking pathetic,'_ Eric thought.

Sookie called Eric's action. Then the Turn card was laid. It was a Jack of Hearts.

'_Full house!' _Sookie cheered internally. Aces over Jacks.

Before Jason could react, Sookie called for a raise.

Eric studied her closely. He squeezed his cards and stared at the four cards on the table. _'What do you have, Miss Stackhouse?'_

Eric checked his stack of chips. Half of his stack was already in the pot. If he called her raise, then it would be impossible to go back. He would not have enough chips to cover the ante anymore in the next game.

The Viking weighed in his odds. He recalled something his father would always tell him, _'When the odds doesn't seem to be in your favor, go with your gut. Ninety percent of the time, its right.'_

And Eric's first instinct was always dead on.

Eric called her raise and waited for the River card. Queen of Spades.

Jason stood up from the chair to grab his champagne flute from the cocktail table. He was too jumpy to stay still. Sookie looked apprehensive there were so many ways she could still lose. Jason clamped his hands on her shoulders and pinched them softly as a form of reassurance.

The hostess went to Eric's side to refill his glass, before she circled the table and filled Jason's glass as well.

After a few minutes of deliberation, Sookie went all-in.

Eric watched her wet her lips and tuck a stray hair behind her ears. She was looking down at her cards, and her face became pensive but softer at the same time. She gave off a kind of look that would make you want to give her anything she desired.

Then his gaze landed on her eyes and he noticed her lashes, they were so thick and long. And they complimented her eyes perfectly.

She darted her tongue out to moisten her lips again and Eric started to wonder if those lips were really as soft as they appeared. He was so busy watching her that when she suddenly looked up at him he almost jumped up. Startled, as though he was caught snooping at someone else's drawers.

He ran his fingers through his hair before he started rolling a chip on his knuckles.

Sookie raised her eyebrow at him, perplexed by his unusual reaction.

Eric's eyes flickered back to her, and he could swear he saw her smile.

That might be the closest thing to elated he would ever see her. And he knew he wouldn't trade it for the world.

He looked down at the blue and red chips on his right. It was all or nothing. No more second chances.

If she won, the game was over. She would win and he would be forced to keep his distance from her.

The game would be over even before it started.

Eric leaned back on his chair and uncrossed his legs.

There was a glint on her eyes that he hadn't seen before. She looked _excited_. She wanted to keep her cold mask on but Eric was keen enough to catch the ghost of a smile on her face.

A few more minutes dragged by without Eric making any move. Finally the dealer, voice unsteady and reluctant, spoke up. "Mr. Northman?"

"I'm out," Eric said, his voice was deep and hollow. _Defeated_. He threw his cards face down in the middle of the table before he stood up from his chair.

Sookie inhaled sharply as she realized what had transpired.

He folded and she won!

Winning wasn't an unusual occurrence to her. Winning against someone like Eric Northman was. She felt revived, indestructible.

For the first time in her life, she felt like a winner.

Jason threw a fist in the air before he grabbed his sister and hugged her tightly. In this night alone, they made more than they both earned in a month.

The Viking smoothed his tie before he buttoned his blazers. "Congratulations, Miss Stackhouse. You can claim your winnings from Rasul," he told Sookie, before he turned to the hostess. "Call Rasul in and ask him to give them what I owe Miss Stackhouse."

Eric nodded at Sookie. "Goodbye, Miss Stackhouse."

With that he left the room, taking long and quick steps.

Sookie watched Eric go, head down, hands in his pocket.

"See Sook! I told you, you can take down that chump! I told you! Didn't I tell you Matilda will give us this one?" Jason rambled as shook her sister in exultation.

Sookie bobbed her head in assent before she drew back from Jason. She walked over to the cocktail table and started sipping her sparkling beverage as they waited for the Rasul fellow that would cash out their chips.

Jason, who just couldn't resist the temptation, resumed with his flirting with the beautiful hostess while the dealer started collecting the chips from the table.

Sookie saw Eric's pair of cards at the middle of the table beside the pile of chips. She didn't know what came over her, but the next thing she knew she was holding out the Viking's cards in front of her - baffled out of her wits.

It was an Ace and King of Spades. Eric folded a Royal Flush!

The last thought on her mind as Jason pulled her out of the room to claim their money was: Eric Northman let her win.

**A/N: I do not own the characters. I only want to play with them a bit.**

**As always, you guys amaze me! It's quite a feeling reading your reviews and feedback. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Your thoughts never fail to make my day! **

**Until the next chapter. Love y'all!**


	6. Chapter 6

"Are we almost done here?" Eric asked in exasperation as he ran his fingers through his hair. He stood up from his chair and fixed his eyes in the Vegas skyline outside his picture window.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I _boring _you?" Pam asked sardonically. She was already on edge when she came into the meeting.

She had had it with Eric.

It was bad enough that he didn't show up for dinner last night at AquaKnox. She didn't even throw a conniption when he failed to make an appearance at The North like he promised later that evening - even though she had waited for him until two in the morning at the casino floor.

But when she came in today at noon and received a call from the floor manager at the Venetian informing her that Eric had been there last night, hosting a private game at the _Paiza, _Pam decided that it was the last straw.

She marched upstairs to Eric's suite, fully prepared to give him a thorough lashing for leaving her high and dry. But was surprised to find him in his office instead, already burying his nose with paper work.

She bit her tongue and decided to let him slide. He deserved a little break anyway.

Aside from his womanizing ways, Eric didn't really have any more vice. Despite owning a number of casinos, he would only gamble to socialize with the high rollers and business associates. He didn't smoke - with the exemption of a few celebratory cigars. And he wasn't taking any illegal substance either, given the fact that he had limitless resources to get the best mind-numbing drugs money could buy.

Pam sat in her designated spot in front of his desk as she gave him a detailed account of all their major businesses.

But it was obvious his mind was somewhere else.

He was listless. He would run his fingers through his hair, crack his knuckles or pinch the bridge of his nose as Pam kept babbling about liquor and gaming licenses that needed his signatures.

Pam let out a deep sigh. "Would it be less tedious for you if I speak like this," Pam asked dryly before she drawled. "Howdy, Mr. Northman. Would you mind signin' me this stack o' papers so I could be well on ma way?"

Eric made a sharp turn and glared at her.

"That works for you?" Pam inquired as she lifted her perfectly groomed eyebrow at him.

"Good for you, Pam! I didn't know you can do impressions? Maybe you can put that in your _resume_ when you look for a new job," Eric snapped sarcastically at his second-in-command.

Pam was jolted by his grim reaction, but quickly shook off the shudder that came over her. "You're not gonna fire me, Eric. Because you know I already have a draft of my memoir titled: The Satan Wears Armani that will make The Devil Wears Prada look like a children's book."

Blackmail was a cheap shot, she knew, but so was his threat. And although Eric could very well follow through with his warning, Pam was mad enough to take it lying down.

Eric continued to shoot daggers at her as he sat back down on his chair. "Let's not do this, Eric. We both know you _need_ me."

"Not as much as you need me."

"For fuck's sake, what is up your ass?" Pam blurted in utter vexation. In all the years she had been under Eric's wing, she had never seen him so out of focus. So out of his game.

Eric buried his face in his palms as he grunted loudly. "I don't fucking know!"

"Should I be concerned? Do I need to commit you to a facility? Because you do know that my future relies heavily on your sanity," Pam deadpanned as she tried to lighten his mood. But it didn't seem to do the trick as Eric kept mum. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it. It's only a phase. You're due to have a breakdown, anyway. Just try to keep it together. _Please_."

Eric took a deep breath before he went to the small bar in the corner of his vast workplace. He poured himself a shot of scotch and downed it in one gulp. He winced as the liquor burned his throat before he slumped at the leather couch against the wall.

"Is everything ready for The North's third anniversary in Macau?" Eric asked.

Pam walked over and propped herself beside him. "I only need to take care of some minor details, but overall we're good to go."

"Good," Eric nodded. "What time do I need to be there tomorrow?"

That took Pam by surprise.

With the exception of its grand opening, Eric never bothered to go to any of his hotels' anniversary celebrations. He would always send her or one of the prominent stockholders to take his place.

The North actually opened on the fourth of July in 2010, but because of strict Chinese traditions, which considered the number four unlucky because it rhymed with the Chinese word for death, they had moved the date of its anniversary to the third of the month. It would be a weeklong worth of festivities with special events lined up for the hotel guests and players alike.

"I didn't know you'd be attending? You never had the stomach for something so repetitive and ostentatious before," Pam inquired. "Besides, what about Fiordillatte? I thought you'd be more inclined to attend that opening?"

Eric didn't want to tell Pam that he wasn't really thrilled to go to Macau, especially with Fiordillatte's re-opening slated the same week. But he needed a distraction. _Badly_.

He wasn't sure he could keep his promise to _her _that he would stay away if they were in the same town.

It was torment enough for him to think about _her, _and could not do anything about it.

For the hundredth time since he walked out of the _Paiza_ last night, he questioned his decision to throw away his game just so she could take the win.

Then his mind would wander back to the look on her face when she could barely contain her excitement.

The smile she had tried hard not to let slip.

The glint in her eyes he had pretended not to see.

They were all too much.

What kind of person would he be if he had taken that glorious moment from her?

'_A spineless fuck, that's what you are,' _he thought miserably.

He had it.

He had _her_.

But he wasn't man enough to go through with it, and for the nth time since he walked away from her, he cursed himself for being powerless against _her_.

While he was wallowing in his pity party, he came to a decision. He needed to put as much distance from her as possible. He was never one to back out of his word. But it seemed when it came to _her_, his lifelong rules did not apply.

"I thought it might boost the employees' morale if I dropped by," Eric replied indifferently.

Pam looked at him. She knew Eric was hiding something. Something big. But she also knew if Eric didn't want her involved then there would be nothing she ould do about it.

Eric valued his privacy more than anything. And she valued his trust the same way.

For the next half hour, Eric and Pam talked solely about business and his travel plans for tonight. Because of the 15-hour time difference between Nevada and Macau, Eric needed to leave the city tonight so he would be able to make it to Macau before noon tomorrow.

When there was nothing else to discuss, Pam excused herself and left Eric alone with his thoughts.

* * *

**E/S **

"Excuse me, Miss, but can you help me with a delivery?" Sookie asked the professional-looking concierge at the lobby of The North.

After Eric left them last night, Jason and Sookie went to the small watering hole down at Fremont Street and treated themselves to a few drinks.

Sookie was terribly conflicted. She had cursed her stupid impulse to snoop.

She would not be in such a predicament if she had just walked away and resisted the urge to peek at _his_ cards.

'_He folded! He freakin' folded! It's not my problem he threw away a quint major!'_ She tried to rationalize in her head.

Although she knew, deep in her gut, that Eric Northman let her win on purpose.

And she didn't know what to make of that.

Did he just get tired of playing with her?

Did he suddenly realize she was more trouble than she was worth?

Did it finally hit him she was a sorry piece of shit that his reputation would be put to shame if he went out with her?

Sookie felt gutted. She was offended and frustrated and she wasn't sure why. Why would she care if Eric Northman finally decided to back off? Wasn't that what she wanted all along?

She did not have an answer.

She suddenly had an urge to feel numb. Jason ordered a few more rounds of beer and while he drank moderately because he needed to go to work in the morning, Sookie imbibed herself until she could barely walk straight.

They hailed a cab and got home before three AM. Jason, who had higher tolerance with alcohol, took a quick shower and was snoring in the couch before Sookie was even done brushing her teeth.

Sookie could already see the orange glint of the morning sun when she finally dozed off.

When she woke up a little after noon with a throbbing headache, Jason was already gone. He left her a note telling her that he'd be at Fiordillatte to meet with Alcide and that he hoped she would follow him there before dinner.

Sookie made herself a cup of instant coffee, straight from the sachet. She took her mug and sat on the couch, which was still swathed with the throw Jason used as a blanket last night.

She drummed her fingers at the armrest as she pondered what to do with Eric Northman. For the life of her, she couldn't seem to get a good read on him.

He was an ass - _that_ she was sure of, but was he pure evil? She didn't think so.

Not because he let her win, she had already decided what she was going to do about that. She would give him back his money along with the thousand dollars she used to buy-in.

Before she went to the _Paiza_, she was already up three grand. She lost to Eric Northman and that left her with a couple of grand to spare. She would deposit a thousand bucks to the loan shark and split the remaining cash with Jason before he went back to Bon Temps.

She zeroed in again on the paradox which was Eric Northman. Just when she thought she had him figured out he would do something that would make her rethink her opinion of him.

Like the day he went to Fiordillatte. She was so sure he went there to humiliate her or demand Tara to fire her. But he didn't. Instead, he finished his meal, down to last bite, and left the waitress a big tip.

Or last night when he could have easily taken her down, but decided to throw his game so she could take home the pot.

Sookie gave up trying to decipher him. Some people were just too erratic and too fickle to read.

She finished her coffee and took a couple of aspirins to silence her pounding head before she hit the showers.

She put on an old pair of jeans that had a few rips at the knees - not from style but from the usual wear and tear - a simple black tank top and light blue cardigan. She put on her trusted black Converse and slung her brown messenger bag across her chest. She debated whether to wear a little cologne then decided to forego it.

It wasn't like Eric Northman would smell her, right?

Besides, she wasn't planning to see him. She was only going to The North to leave the cash to one of the concierges and skedaddle before she bumped with the devil himself.

That was Sookie's plan as she approached the female concierge who gave Sookie a once-over. Sookie shrunk under the concierge's scrutinizing gaze as she cursed herself for wearing something too casual knowing how luxurious and classy _his_ hotel was.

"What kind of delivery, ma'am?" the concierge asked politely.

Sookie was grateful that the staff valued professionalism more over personal taste.

"I have a package for Mr. Northman. Can you please make sure he gets it?" Sookie answered, keeping her voice steady and confident.

But before the concierge could reply, Sookie felt a soft tap on her shoulder.

"Miss Stackhouse, what brings you to The North?" Pam's trilling voice made Sookie's heart thump a little louder.

'_So much for a quick drop,' _Sookie thought bitterly. She forced herself to smile as she whirled around to face the leggy blonde, who, according to Bill, was Eric Northman's second.

"Hey! Miss Pam, right?" Sookie asked amiably.

Pam, like the female concierge, examined Sookie's overall appearance. But it was too subtle that if it weren't for Sookie's sharp eyes she would have missed it.

"Yes, Pam Ravenscroft, at your service. What can I do you for?" she drawled. "You're not here with Bill, are you?" Pam's eyes roamed her immediate area to check if Bill Compton was lurking around somewhere.

"Oh, no! Bill's not here. He doesn't even know I'm here," Sookie blurted.

"Then why are you here, Miss Stackhouse? Or can I start calling you Sookie now, since you seem comfortable addressing me on a first-name basis."

Sookie wasn't sure if Pam was sassing her or it was how she would normally interact, which wouldn't be surprising since she was working for Mr. Saucy, himself.

"Yeah, of course," Sookie replied immediately. She didn't want to spend more time in the wolf's lair, and the sooner she could get rid of the package the better her chances she would not run into _him_. "Maybe you can help me give this to Mr. Northman?"

Pam took the white envelope with the Venetian logo on the side. "And this is?"

"He'll know what it is when he gets it," Sookie answered offhandedly. Pam was making her tensed and she didn't like it. She wanted to dash out of the hotel before she started to sweat like a pig.

"You do know, I still have to check this? Might as well save me the trouble," Pam warned.

Pam was really intent on giving Sookie a hard time.

Sookie took a deep breath before she answered, "Actually, it's the money I owed him."

Pam lifted an eyebrow, amused and stunned at the same time. "You borrowed money from Eric?"

"No! I mean -" Sookie struggled for the exact words to explain. "Can you just please give that to him? It'll mean a great deal to me if you do."

A satisfied smile broke across Pam's face as she handed the envelope back to Sookie. "I'm afraid I can't, Sookie. You see I'm a very busy woman and I can't play messenger for you. But if you want, you can deliver it to him yourself."

The color drained from Sookie's face. _'No, no, no, no! I'm not gonna see that bastard today!'_

"Claudine, can you please escort Sookie to Mr. Northman's office?" Pam turned to the female concierge, who immediately got out of her booth and was at Sookie's side in a flash.

"This way, ma'am." Claudine waved toward the elevator. Sookie was starting to panic. She began shaking her head at the concierge, who seemed adamant to ignore her protestations.

"This is a mistake. I'm only here to deliver this. I don't want to talk to Mr. Northman," Sookie rambled helplessly at the hotel gatekeeper.

Sookie whipped her head back to Pam, but the leggy blonde was already halfway across the room from her, talking to a guy in a black suit. Pam glanced at Sookie's direction and waved goodbye to the Southern Belle.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie and Claudine stopped in front of a gray, modern-styled double door. Standing guard by the side of the doorframe was the same man, who asked her and Bill to come up to security for questioning the first night she was at The North.

The menacing man with brooding dark eyes in black and white suit glanced at Sookie before he gave Claudine a terse nod. The brunette concierge knocked timidly.

"Come in," Eric's low but authoritative voice sounded through the door.

Sookie was a pile of mess. This was not how she imagined it to be. It was supposed to be a simple drop and dash.

Claudine turned the door handle as she walked in rather stiffly. _'So I'm not the only one nervous to see Hades. Good to know,'_ Sookie thought as she stalked the concierge, as silent as a mouse.

Eric was sitting behind a massive mahogany table, sifting through papers neatly stacked in front of him. He didn't even look up to acknowledge the newcomers as he asked the concierge why she was there.

'_All the money in the world and he couldn't buy himself some manners,'_ Sookie thought disapprovingly.

"I was asked to usher Miss Stackhouse, sir," Claudine replied diffidently

Eric looked up at once. His eyes found _her_ first.

He swallowed hard as he dropped the contracts he was evaluating on the table. He dismissed the concierge with a flick of a finger before he rested his elbows at the table and entwined his fingers together - never peeling his eyes off _her_.

Sookie tried to hold his gaze but failed woefully. She reached inside her bag and took out the envelope that had two thousand dollars in it.

"Here, take it. It's your winnings from last night," she said without preamble as she marched toward his desk and placed the envelope on top of it.

Eric's eyes flickered to the envelope before he returned his gaze to her. "Don't you know it's not proper etiquette to look at your opponent's hand after the game?"

"Weren't you the one who told me that throwing away a perfectly good hand was considered cheating?" she argued back.

"A wise girl once told me that not all hands are playing hands," Eric retorted, a sly grin on his perfectly composed face.

"A royal flush is," Sookie snapped. "Just take it. I'm not your charity case." She turned toward the door.

"An honorable gambler. That's a first," Eric snarked, stopping her on her tracks.

Sookie looked back at him, face flushed with indignation. "I'm not as depraved as you think I am, Mr. Northman."

Eric stood up and swaggered toward her. He stopped by the edge of his desk and grabbed the envelope. "If I take this, Miss Stackhouse, then that means I win. Which means you still owe me dinner."

Sookie pinched her eyes closed, she was afraid he'd point that out.

Was she really afraid he'd mention it or was she frightened he would forget about it? She didn't want to ponder on it.

"Why don't you just quit while you're ahead, Mr. Northman?"

"What if I don't want to?" he purred as he stalked her.

Sookie didn't like him closing the gap. Her nerves of steel were slowly melting.

"Why don't we just skip dinner?"

An impish glint flashed in Eric's blue eyes. "What are you proposing?" he cooed.

"Why don't I just answer your questions here? Ask me anything and I promise you I'll be truthful. Save yourself the trouble."

Eric tried to hide the disappointment from his features. "But where's the fun in that? You might find this hard to believe, Miss Stackhouse, but I didn't get to where I am by taking the easy route."

"Did you really expect me to believe that you accumulated all this wealth from working your butt off?" Sookie snorted in an unladylike fashion. "I wasn't born yesterday, Mr. Northman. I knew your father had worked his ass off building this empire. And I also knew that you got to where you were not because of your diligence or smarts but because it was your birthright."

Eric's face darkened. She had no right to judge him - especially if her facts were gathered from gossip magazines and tabloids. But he wasn't going to lose his temper with her. Not now. Not when she was within his grasp.

"Don't believe everything you read, Miss Stackhouse. Most of them were far from the truth. I may have had been born with wealth but I didn't stay rich by slacking off. I also had to fight my own battles to stay on top. Believe me, they were all bloody."

There was something sincere and resolute in Eric's voice that took Sookie aback.

No one spoke for a few minutes as they seemed to have reached a stalemate.

It was Eric who spoke up first. "So? Dinner then?" he asked coolly.

"Can't. I'm meeting my brother for dinner later," Sookie replied.

"It doesn't have to be tonight."

"I'm working dinner shifts for the next few days."

It was a lie, and Eric knew it. He owned the restaurant she was working at, after all. He pushed down the bile that was rising up in him. Was she seriously rejecting him? Did she have any idea what a privilege it was to be caught outside with _him_?

"How about lunch? I'm free right now," Sookie offered casually and it caught Eric off guard. Just when he was getting himself worked up by her constant refusal, she would blurt out something like that. "But if you're busy -"

"I think I can manage," Eric interjected quickly before she changed her mind. "Like you said, I'm the boss."

Sookie felt relieved by his response. And her reaction baffled her. She didn't want to dwell on it, though. She was busy thinking of ways to make this _date_ as miserable as possible for Eric Northman.

'_You're gonna be in for a treat, Mr. Northman,'_ she thought wickedly.

Sookie decided that after today, Eric Northman would not be bothering her anymore after she was done with him.

* * *

**A/N: I do not own the characters. **

**Wow, just wow! Just when I thought you guys could not get any more amazing, you would prove me wrong. THANK you all so, so much for the warm reception. Until the next chapter! Love, love, my lovelies!**

**PS: This was hot off the press, please pardon my mistakes. **


	7. Chapter 7

Sookie insisted that she would pay for lunch since she lost to him. But Eric Northman had never let a girl pay for his meal. _Never_. However, Sookie was so stubborn that Eric eventually yielded.

Eric's office was located at the 33rd floor. Sookie could feel her ears getting clogged when she went up earlier. Now as she and Eric entered the lift, Sookie reminded herself to do the trick her father taught her to conjure up some good luck.

Corbett, like most gamblers, was a very crafty man when it came to charms and rituals that he believed would turn the odds in his favor. Every weekend when Sookie and Jason were still children, their father would round them up at the porch, with a pitcher of cold, sweet tea and biscuits, and teach them a few lucky tricks as well as card games. That was Corbett's version of quality time at the Stackhouse residence.

Sookie was able to pick them up easily, while Jason, who had the attention span of a three-year-old, was a bit slow in learning the tricks of the trade.

Sookie knew how to play Gin Rummy, Black Jack, Baccarat and, of course, all kinds of Poker - be it Five-Card Draw, Omaha, Texas, or Stud. Name it and Sookie would have you floored within minutes with her natural talent.

Along with the games, Corbett would also share with them a few rituals he picked up through the years. _'When you play a game of chance like Baccarat. Luck is a fickle bitch you shall have to woo. So when you can't seem to summon a nine. It means your hands stink and know that __**she**__ doesn't like filth. So you should go and wash your hands.' _

Most of them were juvenile that verged on idiotic. But it was like the placebo effect, if you started thinking it would work then your brain might be able to catch up and make it happen.

There was one of the numerous rituals she had learned that she hadn't tried before. It was the _'lift wish.'_

She was only six and Jason was eight when they went to the Government Plaza in Shreveport and experienced their first elevator ride. _'When you're going down in an elevator, hold your breath when you're on the 12__th__ floor. And you only let it go when you make it to the ground floor. Then you can make a wish and it'll come true,'_ Corbett said with so much fervor it was hard for two children not to believe him.

There was an awkward silence that enveloped Eric and Sookie as the elevator descended.

Sookie glanced at the floor number indicator on her right. They were already at the 14th floor. _'One more to go.'_

Sookie glanced at the towering figure beside her and saw Eric reviewing an intricate graph on his iPad. Now was her chance. She took a deep breath in preparation for her trick. Because of the absence of the thirteenth floor, the lift was at the 12th level before she knew it.

Her stomach was tucked in and her chest was puffed out as she held her breath.

Little did she know that Eric was monitoring her movement from the corner of his eye since they boarded the lift.

"How's that working for you?" he asked teasingly without looking straight at her.

Sookie was flabbergasted as she let out the breath she was holding.

"You were watching me?!"

"It's hard not to notice your quirks, Miss Stackhouse," he replied with a lopsided smirk. "So are you going to tell me what that is about? Or shall I just assume you're one of those weird chicks who do things purely out of whim?"

"Has anybody told you that you're a jerk?"

"I've been called many names, Miss Stackhouse. Jerk is one of the nicest ones."

Sookie crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. Eric glanced at the screen that displayed which level they were in and saw that they were almost at the ground floor. He pushed the emergency stop button and the elevator shuddered to a sudden stop.

"What the hell?" Sookie asked, utterly aghast at Eric's action.

"Tell me or we'll be here for a long time."

Sookie's fist clenched at her sides, ready to take a swing at the bastard's smirking face.

"I seem to remember you telling me you're going to answer any of my questions," he jeered. "Is that a lie?"

Sookie tamped down her temper. She was a pro at keeping her emotions hidden. She would not let him see through her. She tried to keep herself calm even though her insides were twisting in knots because she was a bit of a claustrophobe.

She forced herself to smile as she turned to him. She wouldn't show him fear. People like Eric Northman fed on the fear of others.

"Well, if you must know, Mr. Northman, I'm trying to do a small stunt my father had taught me when I was little. He said if I hold my breath while riding the elevator, I could make a wish." Her cheeks were getting strained as she kept her unnatural smile on.

"Interesting," Eric replied casually. "Can you teach me? I can use a wish or two. _Especially today_." He looked at her in anticipation. Sookie was confounded by his reply. She was sure he would mock her for such childish notions.

"What does a man who has practically everything can possibly wish for?" Sookie asked as she kept her knees from buckling. She could feel the walls closing in on her, trapping her alive.

'_I'm looking at one,'_ he thought as he stared at her.

Eric saw her eyes twitch and decided not to push her anymore. He pressed the emergency button again and the lift resumed its descent. Sookie immediately relaxed her stance.

Eric shrugged. "One can never have everything, Miss Stackhouse. There will _always_ be something missing."

Sookie shook her head in disdain. _'If you only knew how good you had it, you wouldn't wish for anything else.'_

They reached the ground floor and the elevator doors slid open, revealing a handful of people who were waiting to board the lift.

Eric, with his one, long arm, blocked Sookie's way as she started to get out.

"This one's taken. Take the next one," he said to the hotel guests who were too shocked by Eric's impolite actions to react before he could press the number 20 button followed by the close doors key. The metal doors shut and the elevator started its ascent.

"You're absolutely right. Jerk is too nice a word to describe you," Sookie spat as she, once again, braced herself for another terrifying ride with the World's Biggest Ass.

"I don't like getting inconvenienced."

"And it's okay for them?" Sookie asked dryly.

"There are over 20 elevators in this hotel. I'm sure they can find one that can accommodate them," Eric replied without a hint of shame.

'_This day cannot end sooner,'_ Sookie thought desperately.

The elevator dinged as they reached the 20th floor.

"So, how does it work?" Eric asked enthusiastically.

Sookie groaned in exasperation before she began explaining the _'lift wish.'_

The Viking pressed the ground button, followed by the close door box.

As the lift went down for the second time, Sookie shut her eyes to make the swirling in her head stop. She was getting vertiginous by the second and she was afraid she might throw up.

Eric nudged her with his elbow when they reached the 12th floor. "Ready?" he asked.

Sookie held her breath as she thought of the one thing she badly wanted at the moment.

She would like a time machine so she could go back to the day before she met Eric Northman. She was certain she would do everything differently to stay away from him, if given the chance.

But she knew that was impossible so she just wished for the next best thing: _for this day to be over_.

Eric didn't hold his breath, though. He was way too pragmatic to believe in silly fantasies.

Besides, the thing he yearned for already came true - _standing a few steps from him_.

**E/S**

Eric Northman's red convertible was waiting for him out front. The motor was already running, with the air-conditioner set at full blast.

Jim, the head of the valet service, held out Eric's remote keys as the Viking strolled out with Sookie behind him.

"Thanks, Jim." The valet head, a small middle-aged guy with a tanned complexion, held the door open for Eric and the Viking folded himself in.

Jim circled the car as he opened the passenger door for Sookie but she didn't make any move to follow Eric inside the flashy vehicle.

"Miss Stackhouse?" Eric asked.

"Do you mind if we take a walk? It's only a couple of blocks," Sookie said sweetly, using her Southern drawl.

Jim, who was standing idly beside the luxury vehicle, whipped his head in Sookie's direction with an incredulous expression.

Eric clenched his jaw as he got out of the car. July in Las Vegas was brutal, not to mention it was the middle of the day. Why would anyone want to subject themselves to that kind of hell?

"It's a hundred degrees out there and this," he grabbed the lapels of his dark blue blazer, "is Italian silk."

'_And I bet it costs more than I make in a year.'_

"But it's only a short walk. You won't even feel the heat," Sookie prodded. "This is like spring weather in Louisiana."

'_I knew you wouldn't make it easy for me,'_ Eric thought as he tried to weigh in the pros and cons of a midday walk down the Strip.

He would be out in the open, an easy target for his many enemies. Since he took the reign in the corporation, Pam had encouraged him to have a 24/7 security detail, which he thought was a practical move. But he didn't like to look weak so he paid them extra to be invisible.

He locked his gaze with Sookie, who was fiddling with the strap of her hideous bag, as she tried to look coy.

Maybe it was exactly what he needed. Maybe he wasn't really infatuated with her but more like piqued at her dogged determination to irk him.

Who wouldn't love a good chase?

What if it were really the thrill of the chase that was making him putty in her hands?

Well, whatever it was, he would soon find out. This would be the day he would unravel the enigma that was Sookie Stackhouse.

Eric threw the remote keys back to noticeably disconcerted Jim, who caught the keys with ease. Then the Viking, with innate grace, took off his blazer and handed it to the bellhop, who came running to his aid with a simple curl of a finger.

He loosened his black tie, unwound it from his neck and gave it to the attendant. He unlatched his cufflinks and folded his crisp white shirt up just below the elbows. And he did them all without breaking eye contact with Sookie.

"Shall we?" he asked a ruddy-cheeked Sookie.

**E/S**

Sookie pulled the sleeves of her cardigan up to her elbows because it felt like she was in a sauna with her sweater on. But her stubbornness was preventing her from taking her cardigan off.

Eric sneered when he noticed her wipe her forehead with a small tissue. _'Spring weather, huh?'_

They started walking downtown both sweaty from the outrageous Vegas heat.

"Do you know where we're going?" Eric asked Sookie after a while. "If you're looking for a dark corner to dispose my body, you won't find any here. And it has to be at least dark for your plan to work."

Sookie glanced at Eric, who was sweating through his shirt. She suddenly felt bad for him as she started searching for another pocket tissue that was given away for free from different hotels.

She handed it to the Viking without looking directly at him. "Were almost there."

Eric took the miniature pack of tissues and started dabbing his face and neck. _'No woman is worth this.'_

Before he could start regretting his decision to let a redneck play tour guide for him in Vegas, they finally reached their destination. _'Kill me now.'_

"Tacos?" Eric scoffed as he gaped at the Tacos El Gordo sign above him.

"The best in town. Or so I've been told," she replied with giddiness.

Sookie had been craving for the Mexican delicacy since she came to Vegas. It was Terry who told her where to get the best one in town but because she had been so busy the last few days she never got the chance until now.

"You know, The North has a Mexican bistro inside the casino." Eric couldn't help the grunt that escaped his lips out of sheer frustration.

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?" Sookie teased, echoing his exact words to her earlier.

'_Is she sassing me?'_ Eric asked himself mentally. He liked it. It was a refreshing change from her snappy comebacks.

It was a little past two in the afternoon so they managed to evade most of the lunch rush crowd. But there were still a handful of people lined up in the counter by the time they got inside. Sookie rolled her eyes in dismay as she took in the crowd who could not help but gawk at her companion, who despite his clammy appearance seemed to still draw a ridiculous amount of attention.

They loitered by the entrance as they waited for a booth to open up. Sookie diverted her attention to the menu plastered on the board above the cashier.

"What are you havin'?" Sookie asked Eric, who was staring at her intensely.

"You choose. It's your treat."

"Its self-service here, Mr. Northman. No one will come running to serve you when you raise your finger."

"I know what self-service means, Miss Stackhouse."

"Good. And don't expect me carry your food for you either."

A booth at the end of the room opened up and they grabbed it immediately. All the customers in the other booths were shamelessly staring at them as they passed. They waited for the line to thin out before they headed to the counter to place their order.

The Viking was a constant surprise, Sookie realized. She had expected him to be a total snob, a cliché among the elitists. Someone who would wrinkle his nose in disgust from the mere smell of street food. But he proved Sookie wrong yet again.

Sookie tried not to be impressed by Eric's broad knowledge of Mexican cuisine. She should not have been surprised. She thought that if she had the same privileges as him, she wouldn't be so ignorant either.

Eric suggested she tried the _tacos adobada_, which was spicy pork. Out of sheer petulance she ordered the safer choice which was the _taco asada_, which was made of beef steak.

It was a mistake, of course, because the whole time they were eating she was wishing she had the same dish as his.

Eric watched Sookie eat with gusto. She wasn't like any of the other girls he had dated who were so concerned with their perfect bodies to let themselves go. It resonated with _her_ high self-esteem, Eric thought.

Eric's poorly assembled taco kept falling apart and it made Sookie snigger despite her best efforts to keep a straight face.

"You are such a girl," she teased before she offered him a table napkin to wipe his hands. "Do you want me to get you a spoon and fork with that?"

Eric glared at her. _'Oh, there are so many ways I can show you how manly I am. Don't tempt me.'_

"I'm glad you find my discomfort so entertaining, Miss Stackhouse," he spat.

Sookie just shook her head as she brought her focus back to her meal. Eric, licking his wounded pride, finished his food as quickly as he could.

"So what do you wanna know about Bill?" Sookie asked after a little while.

'_Absolutely nothing,'_ Eric thought coldly.

But in order to keep his ruse, he inquired about the smarmy bastard, anyway, although he already knew all the answers to most of his queries. They were all included in _her_ dossier his private investigator collected.

Eric was pleased when Sookie kept her word that she would be honest with her replies.

"Are you romantically involved with Compton?" Eric asked with bated breath.

According to her file, Bill was nothing but an old acquaintance - merely a neighbor from her small town. But Eric wanted to be a hundred percent certain.

Sookie shook her head vigorously, which made Eric smirk in satisfaction.

"Why are you helping him then?" Eric kept on.

"That's what friends do, Mr. Northman. They help each other out. Try it sometimes, maybe in your next life you won't be a dung beetle."

Eric chuckled. "Do you keep a list or you just come up with these snarky comments as you go?"

"Don't need a list if I have you as my muse," she said before she gave him a sickly sweet smile.

Eric was about to reply with another snappy comeback, when three attractive young women - two brunettes and one blonde - made a beeline to their booth. If Sookie would guess they were the same age as hers if not younger based on how strongly they could all blush.

"Excuse me, is this … you?" the blonde asked Eric while holding out the latest copy of Men's Health magazine with him on the cover. The blonde looked as though she was the Queen Bee and the other two were her minions.

Eric pretended not to hear or see the blonde as he chugged down his Light Bud. The blonde bit her lip as she waited anxiously for his reply and the awkwardness of the situation made Sookie squirm. She kicked Eric's leg under the table to get his attention.

Eric drew his brows together as he glowered at Sookie and she tilted her head toward the ladies beside their booth.

"If you can't tell that's me by that photo, then I suggest you have your eyes checked," Eric replied in an even tone.

The blonde was indignant as she spat something inaudible before she turned around and walked away followed by her minions, who were stomping their feet for added effect.

"You didn't have to insult them like that. You could just -"

"What? Ignore them like I was doing before you imposed your foot on my shin?"

"No. You could have simply said yes and excused yourself," Sookie hissed as she leaned forward. People were turning their heads at them and she loathed the attention. "You didn't have to be so rude."

"I'm getting lessons in manners from the Queen of snark? Now, that's rich." Eric wiped his mouth with a napkin before he leaned back.

"I'm not a public figure like you. _You_ have an obligation to be nice, at least publicly," she snapped back.

Eric knew she had a point, but he refused to defer to her reasoning just yet. Maybe he could use those annoying bitches to turn the tables on _her_.

"If I go over there and apologize, I need to get at least something for my trouble," he said, testing if she would take the bait.

"Aside from redeeming yourself for being a jackass?" Sookie asked sarcastically.

"Everybody knows I'm crude, Miss Stackhouse, I'm not pretending otherwise."

"No wonder you collect enemies," she muttered under her breath.

"Beg pardon?"

"I said, no wonder you collect enemies," she enunciated each word.

"Did Compton tell you that?" Eric asked between gritted teeth.

"He didn't need to," she lied. She didn't want Bill to get into more trouble with Eric Northman. "What is your deal with Bill, anyway?"

"He was a liar and a cheater," Eric replied in a steely voice.

"And most people here are saints?" she retorted.

All hint of levity from Eric's face vanished immediately. He looked ominous, scary even.

Sookie discreetly let her eyes roam the restaurant. Customers were still trickling in and there was still a queue at the entrance. Sookie realized they had been there for more than half an hour which was equivalent to two hours in fast food chains.

But the manager didn't seem to mind that Sookie and Eric were lingering. He actually seemed pleased because Eric Northman's presence was good for business.

'_Good, plenty of witnesses,'_ Sookie thought jokingly as she swallowed a lump in her throat. But like what some people said about jokes, they were always half meant.

"That bastard was my father's prodigy," Eric blurted after a few charged seconds. "He trusted Compton with almost everything. And did you know what the fucker did when my father's health started spiraling? He became a double-agent for my family's rival. My father wasn't even cold yet when he started forging financial information about The North for the IRS."

Sookie didn't know if she should believe a word he said. She didn't know Eric Northman as well as she knew Bill Compton. But her lie-detecting ability was telling her Eric Northman was being truthful.

Sookie bit her lip as she tried to come up with something witty to break the tension brought by Eric's revelation. But she came up empty.

After a while, Eric spoke again. "How about you, Miss Stackhouse? Why do you hate me so much?"

"Aside from the fact that you have me dragged out of your casino like a criminal?"

"That was a mistake. I apologize for that," Eric said with a hint of remorse that took Sookie by surprise.

Sookie started peeling off the label of her beer bottle as she fixed her eyes on the table. "I guess it was because you have everything I didn't have," she murmured softly.

"You can't expect me to apologize for having money, Miss Stackhouse."

"It's not that," she hissed as she leveled her gaze with him again. "I don't despise you because you're stinkin' rich. I hate you because you have everythin' and yet nothing seems to be enough for you. You treat people like dirt, but they still adore you. Want to be you. You've never experienced hunger. You didn't force yourself to sleep to silence your growling stomach. Your parents didn't leave you because they wanted to. You didn't have to watch someone you love - the only person who didn't give up on you - die, because you didn't have enough money to send her to a decent hospital or get her the proper meds!" Sookie paused as she fought back the tears that were threatening to fall.

She wouldn't cry in front of him. She would not let him find out that he managed to penetrate the walls she put up to keep people like him out so they wouldn't see how vulnerable she really was.

"If that makes me a hateful bitch, then so be it," she finished.

The customers in the next booth were exchanging wary glances at each other having heard most of Sookie's litany.

Eric was also ill at ease. Not because of their audience but because he didn't know what to do.

For the first time in his life, he didn't have a next move.

After a while, Sookie seemed to have calmed herself down. She took a long swig of her beer then wiped her mouth with a napkin. It must be the alcohol that had worked its way through her brain that made her blurt out those words.

"Who?" Eric asked hesitantly.

Sookie didn't have to pretend she didn't know who he meant. Without looking up from the table she replied, "my Gran."

Eric knew about her grandmother. Adele Stackhouse died at 69, three years ago from a stroke. But he found himself wanting to know more about Adele.

"How did she die?" he asked after a pregnant pause.

"Literally from a big heart," Sookie replied with a ghost of smile. "Her heart was 200 grams bigger than normal. It was hereditary. The doctor said it was treatable with medication or surgery. But Gran refused to be sliced open. She said she wasn't a frog that could be dissected. She was stubborn like that. Her doctor was willing to waive his fee but we still need to cover the room and the meds. Gran said 'Dog burn it, I'm a Stackhouse! I'll live for a hundred more years if I want to!" Sookie continued, mimicking her Gran's tone.

Eric smiled at Sookie's impression of an old woman. She could be adorable without even trying.

"I guessed she didn't want to anymore," she hushed as she stared at her hands. "She didn't even wake us up when she had that last attack. We just found her in her room the next morning. Her fists were clenched as she bit her pillow."

Eric didn't need Sookie to explain why. He already got the picture. Adele was trying to muffle her screams so her grandchildren wouldn't hear.

He stood up from the booth and went to the counter to ask for more table napkins and another round of Light Bud. There was actually a line in the counter but Eric wasn't about to get behind the queue. The middle-aged man in board shorts and a loose black shirt - that had Viva Las Vegas! scribbled in bold letters - let out an annoyed huff when Eric cut the line.

But the manager, who recognized the Viking the minute he had entered the restaurant, was quick to silence the irate customer. The manager ordered the cashier to get the man's order while he attended to Eric's needs personally.

Sookie followed her company's movement. She didn't know what came over her for revealing that much information to the insensitive bastard.

Did she expect him to understand? Did she expect him to say _'there, there,' _while patting her back like normal people would do? _'How stupid can you be, Sookie?'_

She was busy chastising herself when Eric came back to the booth. He gave her a wad of napkins, before he placed another bottle of beer in front of her.

Sookie eyed him conspicuously.

Then it hit her. Eric Northman wasn't used to hearing sob stories - especially from a stranger like her. And this was his way of dealing with this kind of situation. She muttered a soft 'thanks,' before she took a sip of her beer.

"Who taught you how to gamble?" Eric asked again when he saw Sookie settle down.

The Viking also knew about Sookie's gaming background. According to her dossier, she had acquired her skill from her father, who had a gambling addiction. She never played pro, only small-time games in a pub named Lafayette where she used to work. The locals had branded her 'the telepath,' because she was so good in reading their cards.

"My dad. He was very good with cards but he sucked in reading people. He was very trusting to a fault. He thought just because he was nice, other people would treat him the same way. He told us 'good things happen to good people.' Well, that showed him, huh." She snorted before she took another gulp.

Eric tried to recall the information he got about her father. Corbett Stackhouse. A drunk who drowned in a flash flood in Reno ten years ago.

"Can I be Oprah now?" Sookie asked, breaking Eric train of thoughts.

"Knock yourself out," he replied coolly, before he took a long swig of his Light Bud. "I live in a glass house."

"You don't have any secrets?" Sookie asked in disbelief.

"Of course, I do. This is Vegas after all," Eric smirked. "The difference with my secrets, I pay good money for it to stay that way … secrets."

"Have you killed anybody?" Sookie inquired in a low voice.

Eric's eyes darted around the room before he sniggered. "Are you always this blunt?"

"I can butter you up first, but what's the point? You can still lie to me."

Sookie wasn't prepared for what he did next. In a flash, Eric left his booth and squeezed himself beside her. Sookie, still disoriented by the invasion of her personal space, scooched over to make room for his enormous size.

Eric leaned over to her ear before he whispered. "I'll never lie to you."

His warm breath against her skin sent shivers up her spine. Sookie repressed a shudder as she pressed herself harder against the wall to put some distance between her and the Viking. "Then answer the question. Have you had anybody killed?" she hushed.

Sookie was really curious. Ever since her father's questionable death, she had made a vow that she would do everything in her power to catch the people behind his murder. It was a murder. She had never been so sure in her life.

But no matter how certain she was, there was nothing she could do about it. But that was about to change. One of her motivations for coming into the City of Sin was to get as much intelligence as she could about the people Corbett dealt with while he was here. Right now, she was ruling out the usual suspects.

Eric studied her solemn expression before he shook his head. "I haven't. Nor have I ordered a hit on anybody."

Sookie was unconvinced as she locked her gaze with him. "You're lying."

"I'm not. In my line of business, Miss Stackhouse, it's vital that people trust my word," Eric explained in a clinical tone. "It's also important that fear is instilled into the people I trust. Fear that I can make their lives miserable if they cross me. I haven't taken any lives out of nobility. It's because I don't think my enemies deserve such luxury. I only teach them a few lessons. And you can't learn when you're dead."

There was something eerie but at the same time hypnotic with the way he spoke that Sookie suddenly felt the urge to bolt out of her seat and run.

She swallowed thickly as she dropped her gaze to her lap.

Sookie was about to ask him another question when a huge guy dressed casually in blue jeans and black shirt, stopped by their booth and asked if they wanted some guacamole. Eric glanced at the hulk of a man. The Viking shook his head in dissent and the man walked away as casually as he came. Eric stood up and went back to his side of the booth. Then, ever so subtly, Sookie saw Eric steal a fleeting glance at the door.

"You know what goes best after tacos?" Eric asked offhandedly.

Sookie looked up at him.

"Ice cream. And I know just the place to get the best on the Strip." He winked before took out his black leather card case and took one of his business cards that only had his name on it, along with the logo of The North.

Sookie wasn't certain she wanted to stay with him any longer. His brutal honesty was refreshing but also unnerving.

But before she could object, Eric stood up, walked to the counter and dropped his card in the fish bowl that contained different name cards. He didn't even check if Sookie was following him as he made his way to the door.

Sookie decided to go after him eventually. There was something peculiar with his behavior that piqued Sookie's curiosity.

As Eric exited the Mexican eatery, she noticed the gigantic guy, who approached them earlier, hanging out by the hotdog cart right outside the restaurant. Despite his size he didn't stand out in the crowd because he was way too relaxed that he blended right in.

'_Something's odd,'_ Sookie's 'spider sense' was tingling as she discreetly watched the man, she labeled as the 'Hulk,' as she pretended to fish for something in her bag. Eric was walking at a leisurely pace along the sidewalk. With his height, Sookie could easily keep an eye on him.

Then it happened. The Hulk was so fast, Sookie almost didn't see it. With a small stun gun, hidden in his enormous hand, the Hulk tasered a poor, unsuspecting medium-built man leaning by the doorway of Taco El Gordo. The smaller man shuddered before he lost consciousness and the Hulk casually slung the poor guy's arm over his head as he carried him inside a dark gray SUV.

Sookie was so shocked that it rendered her speechless for a few seconds. She was about to scream for help when a huge hand clamped to her mouth and pulled her into a black limousine waiting by the curb.

As soon as Sookie was inside the stretched limo, the man loosened his grip on her.

It was Eric Northman.

"You son of a bitch!" she yelled as her hand flew and connected to the side of face.

Eric winced at the slap but managed to grab both her arms to stop her from giving him another one.

"You can scream here if you want. Just not outside. I don't care for that kind of publicity," Eric muttered as he held both Sookie's arms behind her back.

"That guy from the taco shop. He works for you." It wasn't a question.

Eric replied with a terse nod. "You didn't think I'd go out without a chaperon, did you?"

"And the poor guy he assaulted?" Sookie asked.

"Spy," Eric answered a matter-of-factly.

"What is he gonna do to him?" Sookie asked again. She tried to suppress a tremble as her mind wandered back to the 'Hulk' and the frail-looking man that was hauled like a sack of rice inside the car.

"Do you really want to know?" Eric asked tentatively.

'_No. No, I don't.'_

Sookie bit her lip as she turned her gaze at the window. They were passing by the Boulevard and that was when Sookie noticed that the sun was almost setting. She had completely lost track of time and she instantly rebuked herself for it.

"If you can please tell the driver to pull over, Mr. Northman, I'll appreciate it," Sookie requested softly without taking her eyes off the window.

Eric wasn't ready to let her go yet. "Let's have dessert first. It's just around the block."

True to his word, the limousine pulled over after a few minutes in front of the Bellagio. Eric got out of the luxury car before he offered his hand to Sookie.

Sookie didn't take it, though, as she made her way out of the car with as much grace as she could muster. She decided she would make her escape once they were out on the street.

As though he read her mind, Eric clamped a hand on her waist, which made Sookie jump a little.

He guided her toward the lobby of the Bellagio. As usual, Eric's presence was magnetic. Employees greeted him veneration and the guests couldn't help but gawp at him. Some even took photos as he passed by and it was extremely irritating to Sookie.

'_What's so special about him? If they know what a turd he is, they will not even spare a glance at him!'_

They entered a chic coffee shop named Café Gelato, which served a wide array of expensive and mouth-watering gelatos.

"I'd tell you to try the Irish Bailey's flavor, but I'm afraid you'd get a different one out of spite," Eric mocked.

But Sookie surprised him when she let him order for her.

Their massive serving of gelatos arrived and Sookie was overwhelmed for a moment. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to finish it and she had a strict rule never to waste a single morsel she was blessed with.

But after one bite, her apprehension went out the window. Sookie hated to admit it but the cold dessert was sinfully good.

She finished hers within minutes, pausing only when she experienced a mild case of brain freeze.

Eric, who had no qualms leaving his food half-eaten or even untouched in some cases before, was like a kid who was trying beat his playmate in an eating competition as he gorged himself with his cold treat.

Despite his effort, Sookie still beat him by a full minute.

"Were you trying to beat a record or something?" he teased.

Sookie couldn't help but smile. "When you live with a brother like Jason, you'll learn to eat fast. Or you won't eat at all."

Eric's expression softened at her explanation. She really had it tough. Eric stared at her face and he fought the impulse to wipe the brown smear on her chin.

'_You won't go hungry anymore,'_ he thought in earnest.

He didn't even debate with himself why he cared so much. He only knew that he did.

**A/N: I do not own the characters. I only like to play with them a bit.**

**I'm sorry this chapter broke my daily updating. It will be a little angst-y from this point forward. Hope you won't desert me now. **

**The amount of feedback I'm getting from all of you blow me to bits and it only makes me LOVE you more! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your kind words! **


	8. Chapter 8

"Is there any liquor in that ice cream," Sookie asked as she tried to keep her footing steady as they traipsed around the lobby of the Bellagio after they left Café Gelato.

Eric smirked as he glanced at her. "I thought the fact it was called Irish was a giveaway?"

Sookie's steps halted as she glowered at her companion. "Ugh! You sneaky bastard!"

Eric only shrugged. "Hey, you're the one who told me I could pick the flavor. And with the way you scarfed it down, no wonder you got a buzz."

Sookie was pissed at him. She already had two bottles of beer at the taco shop and she didn't need any more liquor in her system. She suddenly didn't feel so good. Whoever said that hair of the dog worked must have been too drunk to realize it was a fallacy.

"Excuse me, I need to go to the ladies' room," Sookie told Eric before her eyes darted around the room, searching for the nearest comfort room.

"There's one beside the concierge. I'll wait for you here," Eric muttered as he took out his cellphone and pressed number two.

Sookie didn't need to be told twice as she hurried to the toilet beside the front desk.

"Pam," Eric spoke at the receiver.

"I was about to call you. Wheels up in less than an hour. I've arranged for your luggage, too. Are you going back to your suite or you're heading straight to the hangar?" Pam said hurriedly.

"I'm not going," was his curt reply.

There was a short pause on the other line, before he heard Pam's bored tone again. "Of fucking course! Can you do me a favor, Eric, and look inside your pants to check if you're still sporting a willy or it suddenly change into a pussy!"

"Pamela," Eric said in his admonishing tone.

"Do you have any idea how many strings I have to pull to clear your sked for the next week?"

"It's part of your job description, isn't it? To make things easier for me or do you need a refresher course?" he snarled.

"Don't fucking tell me you're with _her_?" Pam hissed.

Eric hid in the corner of the lobby so he would not be too exposed to the hotel guests. But he kept his eyes trained at the front desk, where he knew _she_ would emerge in a little while.

"So what if I am?" Eric replied coolly.

"Here's an advice, Eric. Fuck her _now_. If you don't, I will, just so I can take out my frustration on her," Pam spat.

"Here's an advice, Pam. Choose your words wisely. Or I will make you regret them," Eric's tone dropped so low and so ominous that Pam had to suppress a shiver.

"I'm sorry, Eric. I -"

He didn't hear the rest of Pam's apology because he already saw _her_ walking toward the front entrance, her head whipping around looking for him, or so he hoped.

He stepped out of his corner to make himself visible to her. But then he saw her shoulders sagged as though she was disappointed. Her disappointment stung like a bitch but Eric didn't show it.

"Better?" he asked as he reached her.

Sookie replied with a tight smile. In her hand was a leaflet for tour packages for Area 51.

"Aliens?" Eric asked in amusement.

Sookie realized she was still holding the leaflet and quickly shoved it inside her bag.

Eric chuckled. "Never pegged you for a nerd. Thought you'd like the Grand Canyon more."

Sookie scoffed at him. "It's not a crime to be curious. Not everybody's as narrow-minded as you."

Eric shrugged off her snappy comment as he stared at her while they were making their way outside. "Are you going to take the tour? I thought you'd be busy at work?" he inquired, wondering if she would lie about Fiordilatte again.

Sookie's cheeks flushed as she bit her lip. "It's a day tour. I can still make it back before the dinner shift."

'_My, my Pinocchio, what long nose you have.'_

"You're right. What kind of local am I if I don't give everything this town has to offer a try?" Eric said in mock sentiment. He clamped his fingers on Sookie's wrist as he pulled her back inside the hotel.

"What are you doin'?" Sookie asked horrified of what she thought he would do.

Eric didn't reply as they marched into the front desk. The good-looking young man from behind the desk took one look at Eric and Sookie and all the color drained from his face instantly.

"Mr. Northman, what can I assist you with this evening?" the concierge asked in a croaky voice.

"My friend here has booked a tour for Area 51 for tomorrow. It's tomorrow, correct?" he asked Sookie, who was too flabbergasted to talk.

The concierge began typing frantically at the keyboard under the counter.

"Miss Sookie Stackhouse," Eric told the concierge as he took out his wallet from his back pocket.

"Ah, yes. The bus is set to pick Miss Stackhouse up tomorrow morning at the Golden Nugget. 7.30 on the dot," the concierge replied more confidently this time.

"Can you put me in the same tour?" Eric asked as he handed the concierge his credit card.

"No!" Sookie exclaimed. The concierge looked at Sookie then back at Eric and he suddenly looked constipated.

Sookie pulled Eric on the side. "What the hell?! Why are you joining my tour?"

"You said I needed to be more open-minded. I was only heeding your advice."

"Get your own tour! I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play here, Mr. Northman. But I suggest you find yourself another kind of entertainment. I don't have time to play games with you. If you're so freakin' bored, go get yourself a dog."

"This is a free country, Miss Stackhouse. You keep busting my ass for being such a bastard when all you seem to do is bitch!" he snarled. "I will go wherever I want to go. You have a problem with that, take it to the judge."

Eric went back to the front desk. The concierge was already attending to a new guest when he saw Eric approaching. The concierge started redirecting the guest to the next counter when Sookie stepped in front of the Viking, blocking his way.

"Fine. Take the tour. But you have to get in line and wait for that guest to finish before you go back to him," she pointed at the concierge, who looked more confused than before.

"But I was there first. Why should I wait?" Eric asked in an almost whiny tone.

"Because that's what normal people do in a free country."

The Viking knew she was trying to twist his words. Admit that he was superior to everyone else, thus should not be joining trips with the déclassé.

"It's not a problem, Mr. Northman. This counter is open for you," the concierge called out.

"You heard the man," Eric quipped as he sidestepped Sookie to move toward the desk.

"I'd just like to confirm, sir, you wanted to be in the same tour as Miss Stackhouse?"

Eric nodded.

"The tour Miss Stackhouse booked is already full. But there's another tour, the VIP package. That's where I put you," the concierge explained. Sookie heaved a deep sigh when she realized she wouldn't be going on the tour with him. Eric, however, remained expressionless as he stared at the concierge.

"I've also taken the liberty of upgrading Miss Stackhouse's package, so you could both be on the same tour," the concierge finished with a proud smile.

Sookie was gobsmacked. _'Sonofabitch!'_

Eric thanked the staff as he signed the receipt.

"Who told you I want to be in the same tour as him?" Sookie exclaimed at the concierge, who stared at her as though she started speaking some alien language.

"The upgrade is free of charge, Miss Stackhouse. Mr. Northman is a very valued guest of this hotel and his convenience and that of his company is our utmost concern."

Eric looked at Sookie with a slow and lazy smile. "What are going to do, Miss Stackhouse? Are you going to decline," he paused to read the name tag on the concierge's blazer, "Roy's very generous and well-meant offer? Are you going to make him go through the trouble of switching your package back?"

Sookie shot daggers at Eric. _'I hate you.'_

"Thank you, Roy. That was mighty sweet of you," Sookie drawled with a strained smile. Roy beamed at her as he expressed his gratitude to both Eric and Sookie for doing business with them.

With that Sookie and Eric left the front desk and started toward the front doors. "I do hope we see a UFO there so the mothership can take you back to your home planet," Sookie hissed, which only made Eric snigger in delight.

They exited the lobby and were making their way toward the famous Bellagio fountain. Sookie glared at Eric, who was behind her following her quick strides. "Where are you goin'?" she asked with a scowl.

"I'm following you," he answered nonchalantly.

"Why?" she asked. "I owe you lunch. And if you haven't noticed it's already time for dinner. I have to go. My brother's waitin' for me."

Eric checked his fancy wrist watch before he replied. "Can you wait a few more minutes? I want to show you something. You won't regret it. Trust me."

Sookie's face darkened at his last words. "Forgive me if I couldn't just take your word, Mr. Northman. But the last person I heard utter those words took my father from us."

Eric's confident smirk died on his lips. "Who did?"

Sookie looked at Eric with cold, unforgiving eyes. "Mac Rattray. That scumbag was the reason my Dad went here. He knew my father was an easy prey. I could still remember his exact words, 'don't worry about a thing, Bert. You won't regret it. Trust me.' And my Dad did. The worst part of it was, when they left, I couldn't see my Dad from the back of the cab. All I could see was that scumbag's face with his snake-like eyes, waving at me and Jason."

Eric studied her face. He had seen that look twice today. The first time was when she was talking about her grandmother's death and now, as she recalled her father's demise. Her face would harden, like she was lost in a dark place. Her eyes would lose their focus as she stared down at her shaking hands. Those were her 'tell.' And Eric hated seeing them.

The Viking raked his brain for something appropriate to say. Something clever or funny to pull her out of her dark place. Fortunately, he didn't have to.

As if on cue the sky lit up with a vortex of dancing lights. The seven o'clock fireworks at the Ceasar's Palace had started. It was the thing he wanted to show her. And now, he hoped the lights were enough to cheer her up.

Sookie whipped her head toward the fountain before she looked up at the sky. The tourists passing by stopped on their tracks to watch the display of lights and sounds.

"I hate fireworks," Sookie said between gritted teeth before she stormed off and dashed at the main street.

Eric was confused. '_Did she say she hated fireworks? Who hated fireworks?'_

He ran after her as she tried to hail a cab.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Northman, but I really need to go now. Jason's waitin' for me at Fiordillatte," she explained without looking back at him. Her arm was outstretched as she tried to flag down a taxi.

"I'll bring you there. The car's at the Bellagio," Eric offered.

Before Sookie could reply a cab pulled over to the curb. She swung the door open before she turned to Eric. "Thank you for the offer, Mr. Northman. Good night."

She got in the cab and slammed the door shut. She gave the address of Fiordillatte to the driver but before they could pull away, the other door flew open and Eric folded himself in.

"I'm with her. Now, drive!" he barked at the driver, who had seen enough squabbling lovers in Vegas to care.

"What the hell do you want now?" Sookie yelled in frustration. She was tired, emotionally and physically. It had been so long since she talked about her Gran or her Dad and she had forgotten how painful that felt until now. She had put them in a vault that she refused to open.

And Eric Northman did just that. His relentless questioning shattered the locks in her vault and now she felt miserable. She only wanted to see her brother, a familiar face, who shared her pain.

"I only want to make sure you get home safely, Miss Stackhouse," Eric replied offhandedly. He didn't want her to go. Not yet. It seemed the more he got to peel her layers, the more he wanted to get to the core.

Sookie looked at him in surprise and he realized he just revealed to her that he actually cared.

"I'm just making sure nothing bad happens to you. I'm the last person you're seen with. I'm only protecting my reputation," he lied to save face.

Ironically, his fib worked for Sookie more than his initial response, which happened to be the truth.

'_Of course!__ Eric Northman will never give a damn about anybody but himself,' _Sookie thought bitterly.

"So it all boils down to you, huh? Figures," she scoffed. "Fine. But, I'm paying the cab. I'm not gonna owe you anythin'."

"Technically, I paid for dessert," he jested.

"Alright. How much is it?" she retorted as she took out her wallet from her bag.

"Fifty bucks. Twenty five each." He didn't really want her to pay but she was so pig-headed he couldn't resist the temptation to push her buttons.

"Fifty dollars?!" Sookie exclaimed. She couldn't believe three scoops of ice cream would cost twenty five bucks. She took out five ten-dollar bills and handed them to Eric. "I knew I should have picked the place," she muttered under her breath.

Eric couldn't help but chuckle as he crumpled the bills in his palm. He had never met someone so charming when mad.

They rode the cab in silence. It was rush hour on the Strip and the streets were crowded with cars and wandering tourists that the taxi was barely moving. Sookie was tempted to bolt out of the vehicle and walk to Fiordillatte but she was afraid Eric Northman would follow her still and would force her to make a few more stops.

Sookie was so exhausted that she dozed off eventually.

Eric, who was typing an email at his mobile phone, noticed her sleeping beside him. He shoved his phone in his trouser's pocket as he slid down in his seat so his shoulder would be leveled with her head that was drooping to the side of the window.

With extreme care, he cradled her jaw as he tilted her head toward his waiting shoulder. To his utter relief, she didn't budge as he used his shoulder as her pillow.

His position was uncomfortable because his knees were pressed hard on the back of the driver's seat and his neck was craned to the side. But he didn't mind, he didn't even want the ride to be over. Not yet.

As he basked in her proximity, he didn't realize they were approaching Flamingo road. He cursed mentally. The only time he wished for horrendous traffic, there was none. Well, there were a few, but not enough for Eric.

He knew he would have to let her go.

The cab was slowing down to a stop when they got near Fiordillatte, but Sookie was still fast asleep. Eric, slowly reached inside his pocket for the fifty dollars Sookie gave him before he tapped lightly on the glass behind the driver.

The driver, who had pulled over to the curb in front of the Italian restaurant, looked behind him as he slid the glass open. Eric placed his index finger over his lips to signal the driver to hush. The driver took one look at Sookie and quickly understood.

Eric handed him the bills before he whispered. "I'll give you two hundred bucks more if you keep driving around, until she wakes up. And turn off your meter."

The driver, who finally recognized Eric from magazine covers sprawled all over Las Vegas, nodded his assent without another word.

The driver took a few more laps around the block before Sookie started to stir.

It took her a few moments to realize what had transpired. _'Oh, hell, no. I fell asleep on his shoulder! Dammit! Did I drool?'_ she thought wildly as she shifted a little while pretending to still be asleep.

_'Oh thank you, Moses, I didn't drool.'_ She couldn't help but catch a whiff of his scent as she moved her head. _'It's not fair how good he still smells after sweating like a hog earlier! He smells like freakin' roses!'_

Eric knew she was already awake. He knew because her light snoring had ceased. But he didn't want to startle her. And he wanted to prolong the moment.

Finally, Sookie mustered the nerve to lift her head from his shoulder. She feigned shock as she glanced at him then at the window.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Northman. I dozed off," she tried to smooth his shirt where her head had lain. "Are we almost there?" she turned to the driver to hide the blush that crept on her cheeks.

The driver glanced at Eric through the rearview mirror and the Viking flashed him a very subtle nod that Sookie had missed it.

"We're almost there, Miss," the driver answered Sookie, who was trying to fix her tousled hair.

After a few more minutes, they stopped at Fiordillatte, which was closed.

Sookie stole a glance at Eric to see if he were suspicious that the restaurant wasn't open for business like she said.

Luckily, the Viking's attention was back to his mobile phone. Sookie looked at the meter to check how much she had to pay. To her surprise, it was turned off.

"Hey, you didn't turn on the meter!" she blurted. "Are you trying to scam me?"

The driver looked beseechingly at Eric through the mirror. "No, Miss. I guess it must have turned off accidentally," he said haltingly.

Eric decided to interject. "Don't worry about it, Miss Stackhouse. It happens all the time here in Vegas especially during traffic," Eric tried to explain. But Sookie wasn't buying their charade.

"How much?" Sookie asked sternly.

"Tell you what, Miss. This route costs around twenty five bucks. Give me a twenty and we'll call it even."

Sookie took her wallet out and handed the driver five bills of tens. "Here's fifty. Can you please bring my company back to the Bellagio?" she asked as politely as she could as she unbuckled her seatbelt before she opened her side of the door.

After she got off the cab, she bent down to speak to Eric. "Have a safe trip, Mr. Northman. Good night."

Eric bolted out of the cab and called out to her as she made her way toward the restaurant. "I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Stackhouse. Bring sunscreen this time."

Sookie glanced back at him to ask what he meant, and then it hit her, they were going on a tour at Area 51. She grunted before she flashed him a tight smile. She dashed inside Fiordillate before she could blurt out anything else.

Eric folded himself back into the cab. "Bring me to The North, instead."

He took out his cellphone and dialed a number. After two rings the other line picked up.

"Boss?" Sam spoke through the other line. He was working tonight at The North.

"Sam, how's our little spy?" Eric asked, referring to the frail-looking guy who had been following him and Sookie earlier that his security detail picked up.

Spies were old news to Eric. The Viking had so many enemies that it didn't surprise him to have men snooping around his personal life. Most of the time he just let them go with only a warning.

But this time it was different. Because it interfered with his time with _her_.

When his bodyguard alarmed him of the mole at the Mexican eatery, which was a lucky coincidence because their secret word for mole was 'guacamole' he didn't have to think twice as he ordered his guard to teach the pathetic sleuth a lesson.

He only regretted that _she_ had to find out about the sorry piece of shit. He also despised it when she showed pity toward the jerkwad.

Sam's voice broke through his thoughts. "Roman's handling him, boss. You ordered the full treatment, is that right?"

'_Ah, the full treatment.'_ Eric felt better already. That mole did not have any idea what he was getting himself into when he decided to stick his nose in Eric Northman's business.

It was about time he discovered the Northman-treatment.

"Yes. The works. I want full report later before I go down to the casino. Find out who he's working for. Tell Roman, I want that dick singing like a fucking canary when I get back."

"Roger that, boss."

"Sam, one more thing," Eric added. "I want you to call your contacts. I want you to bring someone in for questioning. Spare no expense."

Sam was taken aback by his tone. He quietly hoped Eric wouldn't ask for someone Sam knew personally. He could only imagine what Eric would do to the pitiable fellow.

"Sure, boss. What's the name?" Sam tried to keep his voice steady.

"Mac Rattray."

* * *

**A/N: I do not own the characters. I only make them do silly stuff for our enjoyment (*cackles*).**

**Hello, my lovelies! As always, your response to the last chapter was mind-blowing! Love, love, love to y'all! **

**To those who voiced their apprehension toward the upcoming angst, don't fret. I wouldn't let myself get carried away, I promise! Just a little at a time. I only wanted to give Eric and Sookie some layers, so this fic wouldn't be a snooze-fest, which was one of my major concerns. I would try to update daily, but in case something arbitrary like work tried to meddle with my schedule, take my apologies in advance. **

**I knew this was a bit of a slow burn. I was just having too much fun with their silly banters that I couldn't help myself. I promised we would be getting to the restaurant, Corbett and Bill plots eventually, just bear with me.**

**Your thoughts and feedback meant a lot to me. It made me feel like I wasn't wasting my time with my fantasies. Thank you SO much!**


	9. Chapter 9

"Cher!" Alcide's huge arms enveloped Sookie in a bear hug as soon as she entered the Italian bistro, which was undergoing a major overhaul.

Jason, who was drilling support screws for the podium at the corner of the restaurant, looked up from his post and took off his safety goggles. He waved to his sister, who nodded her head in acknowledgement, before he resumed with his work.

"Geez! Alcide, this place is … wow!" Sookie gasped as she appraised the place.

Fiordillatte was already tasteful when she first got there, a huge step-up from the podunk bar and grill she used to work at. But as her eyes swept over the room, she couldn't help the surge of pride that came over her.

"As much as I'd like to take the credit, I can't," Alcide muttered shyly. "The new owners have a very specific vision of how they want this place to look like."

Sookie's lips quirked upward as she gave Alcide's toned biceps a featherlight pat. "Don't you sell yourself short, Alcide. _They_ may have the vision but _you're_ the one who's bringin' it to life! They cannot have a better contractor than you."

Alcide scratched his head in a sheepish manner that made him look like a small pup craving for his master's ministrations. "I've had help." Alcide nodded toward Jason, who had unplugged the electric drill, and was walking toward them in the middle of the dining area.

"Hey, Sook, ready to vamoosh?" Jason said to Sookie while he was putting on his flannel shirt before he turned to Alcide. "You sure you're stayin' here bro? Why not take a quick break and join us as we grab a bite."

Alcide looked tempted for second before he quickly shook his head. "Nah, you two go ahead. I'll just drive by El Gordo later before I go back to the motel. Terry brought me there yesterday. I'm tellin' you Jase they have the best taco ever. I'd be glad to eat that same food every day until I die."

Sookie forced herself to look away from Alcide and Jason at the mention of Tacos El Gordo. It brought back some unsettling memories in her.

"You sure, man? We're buyin', or should I say, champ here is buyin'," Jason waggled his eyebrows at Sookie as he hinted about her win last night.

"Oh, yeah. Jase told me about that. Atta girl, cher! He told me you owned 'em like bitches," Alcide said proudly.

"Oh boy, Alcide, you should have been there, Sook is like the fuckin' Rain Man without the nervous tick," Jason added animatedly accompanied by hand gestures.

All the talk about previous night's events was making Sookie uneasy. She just wanted them to stop and move on to another subject. But she had no such luck as Jason kept on about the pot-bellied shark that kept challenging Sookie's hands, who, eventually, went home empty-handed.

Alcide and Jason guffawed like asinine boys and Sookie had to bite her tongue to stop from lashing out at their infantile reactions.

When Jason started rehashing their experience at the _Paiza,_ and how she 'demolished' Eric Northman like a termite-riddled building, that was when Sookie decided she had heard enough.

"Yeah, about that. I didn't actually win," Sookie said in a soft, hesitant voice. Her hushed tone was like the sound of a gong to Jason and Alcide as the two men gaped at her quizzically. "He had a royal flush. He had Ace, King Spades."

"Shut my mouth!" Jason bellowed. "You mean to tell me that cocky prick threw away a quint major? Man, I thought _I_ was dumb."

Then as though the words had only sunk in, Jason whirled Sookie around and stared at her with a wild look in his eyes. "Wait a fuckin' minute, you didn't give him back the money, did you?"

Sookie's silence was answer enough for her brother. Jason turned his back to Sookie and Alcide as he grabbed the back of his head while he groaned in frustration.

"Dammit, Sook! Why'd you that? The chump's already loaded. That kind of money's like loose change to him," he exclaimed.

"It was the right thing to do, Jase. And the last thing I wanted was to owe him," Sookie explained.

"But he said he was out!" Jason screeched. "Maybe he thought you had the better pair."

Alcide, who had been quiet through the whole debate, gave Jason a disbelieving look. He didn't know much about poker but even he was certain that a royal flush was the best hand any player could ever have.

Sookie was getting agitated by her brother's twisted logic. "You know that can't be true."

"Even so, that's not the point. The goddamn point is he folded his cards. Period. Isn't there a rule against peeking at each other's cards? And what about one word in poker. D'you forget about that? That's like the golden rule, isn't it?!"

Sookie huffed in frustration. There was no use arguing with Jason. Stubbornness seemed to run thick through the Stackhouse's blood.

"It doesn't matter now. It's done," she said with finality.

"I know your stupid pride will get us in trouble someday. You're just like our old man. I bet it was also his fuckin' pride that put him six feet under. He didn't wanna go home a loser so he chose to come back in a body bag instead."

Sookie didn't know what came over her, but the next thing she knew her palm was midway in the air before it landed on Jason's cheek. "Take that back!" Sookie yelled, her voice was shaking with raw anger.

Alcide whisked Sookie away from Jason before the older Stackhouse could react. He knew Jason would never hit a girl, much less his sister, but he wanted to diffuse the tension before it escalated into a full-blown Stackhouse war.

Sookie stared at Jason with cold, unblinking eyes. She refused to blink to keep the tears that were pooling in her eyes from falling.

Jason, on the other hand, was too shocked to say anything. It had been so long since he saw his sister _that_ enraged. And it scared the hell out of him.

Sookie was always the calm and composed one between the two of them. She was patient and rational while Jason was always the one acting like a chicken with his head cut off. He could barely tell if she were vexed with him in many occasions because she had mastered her poker face so damn well.

That was why her sudden outburst caught Jason off guard. He rubbed the side of his face where Sookie's palm had left a red mark. _'Damn, she really does pack a punch!'_

Alcide tried to pacify the seething Sookie as he ran his hands up and down her arms. But she was still trembling with rage as she kept her eyes trained on her brother. "Take it back, Jason, or so help me -"

"Alright! I'm sorry, 'kay?" Jason wailed in surrender. He took a few steps toward her, arms outstretched in front of him. "You know I didn't mean it. I'm sorry," he added softly.

Sookie finally let the tears rolled down her cheeks as her body sagged in Alcide's arms. Jason reached her and, without hesitation, she went into her sibling's open arms.

"I'm sorry, Sook. You know I love Daddy as much as you, well, maybe not as much as you. Because we both know you're his favorite," he whispered in her hair. Sookie did not dispute his last remark. Everybody who knew Corbett could tell how close he was with his little girl.

Like most daughters, Sookie had placed her father on a pedestal, where no man would ever be good enough. Even when Corbett left them, Sookie never lost hope that he would someday come back. She could still recall how she would run barefoot to the door when someone knocked in the middle of the night. Her Gran would give her a good scolding every time she would open the door without checking through the screen door first.

But Sookie never learned. She would do it again the next time someone knocked in the hope that it was _him_.

One time, she accidentally opened their door to a Jehovah's witness and her Gran spent half an hour telling the poor guy they were devout Catholic and would stay that way until the day they died.

"I just miss him so much," she choked through her tears.

The dam broke. Eric Northman's probing earlier had managed to create tiny cracks through the seemingly impregnable wall she had erected to protect herself. All it took was a little nudge and Jason's spiteful words to smash all her defenses.

"I miss him, too," Jason murmured. "Let's not fight anymore, 'kay? You're all I have left. I can't lose you, too."

Sookie acquiesced with a gentle nod before she drew back from her sibling.

Alcide and the two other workers in the room were considerate enough as they continued with their work while pretending not to notice the sibling's drama.

"Alcide, we'll be heading out now. I hope we've provided you guys enough gossip for the rest of the night," Jason jested as he waved to the two other guys in the resto. Sookie recognized them as Calvin Norris and Tray Dawson, who were both from Shreveport.

Alcide walked the siblings to the door, all the while asking Sookie if she were feeling better. He asked her if they could catch up before they headed back to Bon Temps on Thursday. Sookie graciously accepted his invitation. Alcide reminded Jason that he had to get back to Fiordillatte before 8am the next day because the piano would be arriving then and they needed to finish the small podium where it would be placed. Jason grunted in annoyance first before he grinned and gave Alcide a two-finger salute.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric was in such a pleasant mood when he got to the North that he decided to finish working on the pending contracts and licence applications that needed to be filed next week.

He couldn't keep the grin off his face as he recalled how _she_ fell asleep on his shoulder. Then two soft knocks disrupted his ponderings and his grin immediately turned into a scowl. He had a pretty good idea who would be behind the door. He waited for another round of timid taps before he beckoned the person inside.

"What do you want, Pam?" Eric asked without looking up from the stack of papers in front of him. He knew it was her by the discernible sound of her heels against the hardwood floor.

"Eric -" she started. The Viking finally looked up at her with piercing eyes and all the words she had been practicing to say for the last couple of hours got stuck in her throat.

"Let me get one thing clear here, Pam, so you won't make the same mistake anymore," Eric said in a tone so low, Pam had to move closer to the desk so she wouldn't miss a word. "You will not speak ill about _her _again. And most of all, you are not to touch _her_ like the other bimbos you procure for me. She's off limits. Am I clear?"

Pam knew Eric was mad at her but she was still shocked when she realized why. "I don't understand. Are you _in love_ with her?" Pam asked haltingly as confusion clouded her features.

Eric clenched his jaw as he looked away. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I'm not," he quickly denied. "I'm not." He returned his gaze at his trusted lieutenant as he tried to reassure her.

"Then, why are you acting like you are?" Pam retorted as she pressed her palms on his desk.

"Because," he started angrily before he caught himself. He was being unreasonable. His fascination with _her_ was getting out of hand and he couldn't understand why.

There was nothing special about _her_. In fact she hadn't done anything even remotely enthralling to deserve the kind of attention he was giving her.

She dressed like teenage boy. She ate like a man who had been starved for days. She had nothing but insults for him. She was very judgemental. And she rarely smiled.

Then he remembered her faint smile while she was gorging on her gelato. It was so pure and so innocent that it made his stomach queasy. He had to fight a sigh from escaping his lips as he relished that memory of her. Eric knew right there and then that he would do anything to see that smile again.

The sound of Pam's nails drumming lightly on his table pulled him out of his musings. He realized he hadn't answered her question yet.

"She's different," he said in a much calmer tone. "And we still don't know if she's working with Compton. I'm only protecting my best interest. Satisfied?"

Pam raised her brow at him as she stood in front of him akimbo. "It depends."

"On what?" Eric muttered as he fixed his gaze to the black ledger that contained his hotels' financial accounts.

"On how stupid do you think I am?" Pam replied sardonically before slumped down to the sofa across the room.

"I'm beginning to doubt my move to make you my second. You're too smart and snippy for your own good," Eric replied with a touch of levity. He stood up from his seat and propped himself beside her.

"Why don't you just admit it, Eric? You're attracted to her. If I'm to take a guess I'd say because she's not falling for your usual tricks. Your enormous ego can't resist the challenge she poses. In short, Eric Northman has finally met his match. North meets South. If you think about it, it's really quite funny."

Eric shook his head in derision at his prodigy. There was no way _she_ could be his match.

'_No fucking way,'_ he thought with very little conviction.

* * *

**E/S **

"What do you think he'll do to that spy they caught?" Jason asked Sookie as he munched on a spring roll.

Sookie was still full from her late lunch so Jason suggested that they just order takeout and have dinner back at her apartment. Sookie was bushed from her action-packed day with Eric Northman that she immediately took Jason for his offer.

On the way to the apartment, she gave her brother the blow-by-blow account of everything that had transpired earlier, including the unsettling incident with the spy at the taco shop.

"I don't know. He asked me if I wanted to know but I chickened out. I was afraid it was one of those 'I'll tell you but then I'll have to kill you,' sort of thing."

Sookie was only kidding. Somehow she had the feeling that Eric Northman wouldn't really hurt her. Absurd as it might sound but she felt illogically safe with him. It might be because he wasn't pretending to be nice.

She realized long ago that snakes come in different forms. But what a snake wouldn't do was to reveal that he was a snake. When she asked him if he had killed a man before, he gave her a straight answer that she found hard to doubt because it was both pragmatic and disturbing. Eric Northman was dauntless and he was the first one to admit his ways were unconventional most of the time. Somehow that kind of brutal honesty was comforting to Sookie.

Then again, she might be getting too complacent around him. That was something she could not afford, and she intended to correct it as soon as possible.

Jason, on the other hand, did not find anything funny with her last comment. "And you're still goin' out with him tomorrow? I mean, you said it yourself he's ruthless and cunning. Guys like him see girls like you as appetizers."

Sookie realized Jason was dead serious when he stopped chomping altogether. There were only two emotions that could put a damper into her brother's insatiable appetite: lust and fear.

"I'm not stupid, Jase. I'm not even encouragin' him, I swear. And I'm not worried. Men like him have the attention span of a fly. He'll be bored with me faster than you can say asshole. Besides, it's not like a date or somethin', we'll be joinin' a tour. We won't be alone together. So, don't you worry, I'm only interested to see where ET phoned home."

Jason was still not buying it, though. "That ain't the point, Sook. I still think it's a bad idea to hang out with him," Jason kept his voice stern, playing the big brother role to the max. "Why don't you go and talk to Bill? Maybe he can help you get tall and scary off your back."

Sookie fell silent. She hadn't told Jason what Eric Northman had revealed to her about Bill. Although she was still giving Bill the benefit of the doubt, she didn't want to put her complete trust in him anymore.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," she began. "Bill's the reason I fell into Eric Northman's radar in the first place. And right now, I can't afford to trust anyone in this town."

Jason stared at her, obviously conflicted. "But Bill's not from Vegas, Sook."

Sookie shook her head in disagreement. Bill might be originally from Bon Temps but he had been in the City of Sin far too long. She remembered a quote she had picked up from a psychology book she borrowed from the library when she was in high school.

(She wanted to learn more about the human's psyche in order to read them better.)

It was by Friedrich Nietzsche that went something like _'__when you gaze__ long __into__ an __abyss the abyss__ also stares back __into you__.'_ She wasn't saying Bill had really turned into a conniving weasel like Eric Northman claimed. But she had been burned far too many times to throw caution to the wind.

"I'm not askin' Bill for help. I can take care of myself."

* * *

**E/S**

Eric was in the middle of an informal meeting with his associates who just flew in from Singapore.

They were urging him to pull out his shares in Marina Bay Sands to build a brand new hotel and casino that would compete with the former. But Eric thought he had enough business in his hands to dip his toe into a major venture just yet.

Besides, he was still consumed with expanding his resorts in Macau and he found Singapore's gaming rules to be very constricting for his taste.

He told them that he would consider it in the future but for now he would have to decline. The Singaporeans were clearly disappointed but they were smart enough not to push the subject any further.

Pam, with her impeccable timing, came strolling in the private room and went straight to Eric. "Sam said he found the Rat."

Eric quickly excused himself and made his way toward the security room in the second floor.

Pam hurried behind him. "Since when do you trouble yourself with small-time scammers?" she asked in a hushed tone as they rode the service lift behind the private rooms. It was reserved for the North's exclusive members only if they wanted to leave the casino discreetly.

"Since he started messing with the wrong people," was Eric's hard reply as he exited the elevator. He hastened his steps along the corridor leading to the surveillance and security area.

Sam looked proud of himself as he directed Eric into the interrogation room.

Pam stayed behind in the surveillance area to keep an eye on the floor through the monitors while keeping a close distance to the Viking.

"Turns out Mac Rattray isn't a hard man to find. He's been flagged by all the major casinos in Vegas. He's known for his MO of luring minor-league gamblers," Sam started explaining as they made their way to the examination room.

"He'll bankroll his victims first to gain their trust. Then when the players start raking in the cash, he'll dupe them into thinking he's putting their winnings in an untraceable accounts to avoid getting the heat from the casinos. He even forges bank accounts to show to the poor suckers. When the gamblers start hitting the skids, Rattray will stop financing them altogether. He'll throw them out in streets without a dime in their pockets. He'll be gone before his victims realize they've been conned. "

He gave the Viking a thick folder that contained the information he gathered about Mac Rattray. The slimebag started scamming ten years ago. If Corbett died roughly the same time, then it meant he was Rattray's first victim. The guinea pig.

It appeared that Mac Rattray wasn't only wanted in the big casinos, the bastard was also coveted by Anthony Murello, the leader of the formidable Italian thugs in Vegas. They refused to be called the mafia, it was too much of a cliché, Big Tony would tell Eric.

Eric browsed the papers quickly before he studied the man inside the cell through the one-way mirror.

A skinny man with thinning hair and a sinister grin was leaning casually on the wall. He was chewing on a toothpick looking rather bored. Eric detested him already.

The Viking took off his blazer and cracked his knuckles before he entered. Sam and Roman, the head of security who was keeping an eye on Mac Rattray, exchanged a wary glance as they took in Eric's murderous look.

Eric entered the room with Mac Rattray's dossier and a black fountain pen in his hand.

Mac Rattray took one look at the Viking and his blood chilled in horror. Mac had heard a lot of stories about the Viking and the infamous Northman treatment. They were the stuff of nightmares for people like him Vegas.

"Sit down, Mac. Can I call you Mac?" Eric asked genially as he took the seat across his _guest_.

"Sure, Mr. Northman, sir. Whatever you want," Mac stuttered.

Eric's lips curled in disgust. He hadn't done anything yet and the filthy mongrel was already trembling.

"Mac, I have a dilemma. I was hoping you could help me," Eric started.

"Eric Northman asking me for help? Hell must be freezing over," he sniggered nervously. He had been in rooms like these before to know that a casino honcho like Eric Northman was only trying to bait him into admitting something he had or hadn't done. Before he would send in his goons to 'teach him a lesson.'

Eric cleared his throat as he leaned toward Mac. The swindler also slanted his head forward to feign interest in what Eric Northman had to say.

"I'm looking for a lowlife cheat like you. This person owed me a lot of money. Last I heard, you two were joined at the hip. Help me and I would make it worth your while," Eric said while keeping a straight face.

Mac Rattray's face lit up like a light bulb. It just might be his lucky day.

There was nothing like gaining Eric Northman's favor. Everybody in Vegas wanted to earn a favor from the Viking. Mac decided he would throw his own mother under the bus if Eric Northman asked for her.

"I'll even do for it free. For you, boss," Mac lied. "Say the name and I'll deliver the motherfucker to you myself." He beamed at Eric, revealing uneven, yellow teeth.

"Corbett Stackhouse."

Mac Rattray looked confounded for a few minutes as he raked his brain for the name that sounded vaguely familiar to him. He finally shook his head in resignation. "Doesn't ring a bell, boss."

Eric Northman's face darkened before he jabbed the Rat's hand with the fountain pen. An ear-splitting wail filled the room as Mac stared horribly at his hand which had been skewered on the table.

Eric yanked the pen that was lodged between the soft flesh connecting Mac's thumb and index finger.

Mac cradled his bloody hand close to his face as obscenities spewed out of his mouth.

Eric rested his arms on the table hiding the pen under his palms. "How about now?" he asked Rattray.

"I swear, boss! I don't know anyone with that name!" Mac screeched pleadingly as he gripped his bleeding hand to stop it from gushing blood.

"Think carefully, Mac, or this pen will find its way into your eye."

Mac instinctively shut his eyes as if that single act could stop Eric from piercing his orbs.

In a flash, Eric was on his feet delivering a hard blow on Mac Rattray's jaw. The bastard fell off his chair as he scrambled on the floor, coughing up mouthful of blood that came with a few loose teeth.

Roman and Sam, who were watching through the mirror, flinched from Eric's action. The only time Eric had hit a man with his bare hands was when he was beating up Bill Compton for betraying Godric. It was personal then.

After that one time, the Viking would always use a weapon like a steel pipe or a pair of pliers, but never a gun, Eric said it was too redundant.

"Get up! It's no fun beating you up when you can't see my face!" Eric snarled.

Mac Rattray didn't make any move. He couldn't take another punch like that from the Viking.

"I will give you until the count of three to stand the fuck up, or I will make sure you will never have use for your legs again," Eric said ominously.

Mac knew well enough not to take the Viking's threat lightly as he scurried to get up on his feet. He held on to the side of the table to steady his footing.

"Please, I don't know no Corbett, _please_, sir," Mac mumbled almost incoherently, thick blood gushing out of his mouth as he spoke.

"Let me refresh your memory then," Eric asked in a sing-song voice. "Corbett Stackhouse was one of the patsies you recruited from Louisiana."

A flicker of recognition flashed in Mac's frantic eyes. "Bert? I haven't seen him for over a decade, boss. I don't know where he is, I swear!" he rambled as he staggered backward until his back hit the wall.

"I do," the Viking replied with an air of nonchalance as he stalked Mac Rattray in the corner of the room. "He's dead. He never made it back home."

Mac Rattray sank down against the wall, clutching his wounded hand while panting heavily. His fate was sealed. "Please don't kill me…" he pleaded.

Eric crouched in front of the wretched creature. "Kill you? Now why would I do that when we still have so much to talk about? But since you can't seem to remember much about your old buddy Bert, I'll let Big Tony help you refresh your memories."

Mac Rattray thought he couldn't get any paler. But he did.

Eric left the room as Mac groveled and begged to be spared from the wrath of Big Tony.

"Turn the Rat over to Tony but tell him not to castrate him yet. I want this scumbag helpless not hopeless. I'm saving him for someone special," Eric ordered Roman. The former Navy SEAL officer flashed the Viking an approving look before he nodded his assent.

* * *

**E/S**

"I'm gonna hit the sheets now, Jase. You gonna be okay, here?" Sookie asked her brother as she dried her hair with a small towel.

Jason was lounging at the couch, watching a sitcom rerun on TV. "Wait, Sook, can I borrow your prepaid card? I wanna call Dawn before I hit the sack. I'm sure she's pissed at me for not calling last night."

"Sure. It's over by the counter under Gran's frame. I think it still has 20 minutes left in it. There's a payphone two blocks from here. You won't miss it, right before you reach 7-11," Sookie replied before she shut her door behind her.

Jason knocked on her door lightly. Sookie swung it open and ducked her head behind it.

"Be careful tomorrow, Sook. That Eric prick may be a creep but he can run me out of business in Bon Temps. He's one hell of a charmer, Sook. Don't get yourself glamored by his dashing smile."

Sookie couldn't help but laugh at his brother's comments. "Dashing smile? Seriously? How gay are you?"

Jason scowled at his sister before he marched out of the door. "Don't forget your keys, Elton John!" she called out to Jason before her sibling closed the door.

"Got it," he yelled through the door.

'_Eric Northman, charming? Yeah right, as charming as Hitler!'_

Sookie sat on the side of her bed as she set her alarm clock to 6am. She wanted to give herself time to wash her hair again so she could style it in a one-sided braid. She was trying to decide whether to wear her favorite yellow sundress she was saving for special occasions, or her skinny jeans that made her hips and buttocks pop out, when she caught herself.

'_What the hell? Am I actually excited to go on an excursion with Eric Northman?'_

She buried her face in her pillow as she let out an exasperated "Arrgh!"

'_I'm not ecstatic to see Eric Northman,'_ she thought. '_I'd rather be abducted by aliens than get stuck in the middle of the desert with that asshole_,' she added.

'_Eric Northman is an SOB. Eric Northman is an ass. Eric Northman is a prick,'_ she kept repeating in her head. Her eyelids fluttered as they felt heavier and heavier by the second. She continued with her mantra as she lulled herself to sleep.

The last thought that crept in her head before she succumbed to her nighttime rest was, _'Eric Northman smells like freakin' roses.'_

* * *

**A/N: I do not own the characters. I only wish I do. **

**You guys! How can I thank all of you for your enthusiasm with this story? You all are really amazing! THANK YOU! **

**For those of you who want Sookie to mellow a little, I promise she will. Just give her a little more time, though. She'll come around. Thanks again for all the reviews and feedback I appreciate them all! **


	10. Chapter 10

Eric and Sam watched Roman and two of his men drag a thrashing Mac Rattray out of the interrogation room and into the service lift that would go straight to the basement garage. From there, they would deliver the Rat to Anthony Murello who had an underground holding cell beside McCarran Airport.

Big Tony was anything but big. He was a small, pudgy man with a bad leg in his fifties, who looked like a cross between Danny de Vito and Martin Scorcese with his horn-rimmed glasses and walking stick. He was mild-mannered and he talked with a lisp. He didn't look imposing at all.

But looks could be deceiving.

And in Big Tony's case he had deceived a lot of lowlife con artists and bookies who had tried to in his fiftiescross him. Big Tony ran backroom gambling operations all over Nevada and Atlantic City. Because of that most big casino owners ostracized the mob boss.

They weren't happy with the fact that Anthony Murello's underground gambling operation was taking a slice from their cake without paying any taxes.

But Eric Northman wasn't like most casino honchos. He didn't mind that Big Tony was making money illegally while he did everything by the book. The Viking was profitable enough to bother himself with other people's loot. Besides, Big Tony owed Eric Northman a favor.

It happened five years ago, when Eric was still relatively new in the gaming business.

A group of hotshot FBI agents tried to bust Big Tony in Reno. Murello barely escaped the raid. However, his mistress and his two brothers weren't so lucky. By the time Tony ordered a hit on the agents it was already too late, the Bureau had already sent more agents, along with the local police, to take down what was left of Murello's operations.

Tony asked several casino owners for help but they all turned him down. All except for Eric Northman, who was keen on collecting favors from everybody who might be useful to him.

He hid Big Tony and the rest of his posse in one of his safe houses in New Mexico while his lawyers worked on Tony's case. Eric managed to bail the mistress and the brothers out, while his East coast lawyers played the frame-up angle. The trial dragged on for over a year, but in the end, Eric Northman and his group of top legal advisers won. The Murellos walked with the condition that none of them would conduct any form of illegal gambling in the US or they would be sent back to jail for life without pardon.

But, of course, once rotten would always be rotten in Vegas.

After three years of lying low, Big Tony resumed with his operations but with stricter rules and more severe punishments. Cheats and snitches would be prosecuted without question, but not without inflicting tremendous pain on them first.

Big Tony's favorite form of torture was castration using a rusty serrated blade. The procedure itself was excruciating enough but what really made it special was the tetanus bacteria brought by the non-sterile tool.

Eric's recollection was interrupted when a female staff from Roman's security team entered the interrogation area and handed him an ice pack. Not a minute later, Pam came bursting through the door, too.

Eric took one look at Pam and he knew, whatever she had to say did not bode well for him.

"We have a situation." Pam told Eric while the Viking was icing his swelled knuckles. "Kibwe managed to break the spy you picked from El Gordo. His name's Franklin Mott and he's working for Sophie Anne. The bitch flew in yesterday from Paris. She got wind of Stan's financial trouble and wanted to seal the deal on Queen Regent as soon as possible."

'_Fuck!'_ Eric thought.

Kibwe was part of his security detail. He was the African-American guy who kept an eye on Eric and Sookie earlier. When Eric arrived at the North, Kibwe was still giving the lanky mole the Northman treatment. Eric was actually on his way to check up on them again but Pam beat him to it.

Sophie Ann Leclerq was the youngest heir to the Leclerq Group of Companies, which specialized with textiles and crafts. The Leclerq family was one of the oldest and richest families in the South. Sophie Anne was the most ambitious among her siblings - Sigebert, Wybert, Andre. She wanted to invest in the hotel business as well and she had been eyeing the Queen Regent hotel beside the Luxor in Vegas for some time now.

Ever since Stan Davis, the owner and CEO of the Luxor filed for bankruptcy early this year.

Eric Northman wanted Queen Regent way before Sophie Anne did. He started bidding for the hotel a couple of years ago when one of his spotters discovered Stan's tax trouble with the IRS. Queen Regent wasn't as prestigious as the Bellagio or Sands but it was located smack in the middle of the North and Luxor.

Since the Viking had already acquired the majority of the shares at the Luxor, only two months ago, purchasing Queen Regent would allow Eric to expand the North and adjoin it with the pyramid. If that happens, he would own the biggest casino resort in all of Vegas.

And he wouldn't let a snobby little rich girl interfere with his goal.

"Where is she?" Eric asked as he flexed his bruised fingers. He cursed himself for punching the Rat but he couldn't stop picturing him looking at _her_ with his snake-like grin.

"Sophie Anne's staying at the Four Seasons. I checked with Stan and he confirmed that Sophie Anne scheduled a meeting with him tomorrow morning at the Regent. He's in the process of aggressively liquidating his assets," Pam replied. "Kibwe confiscated this from her mole." Pam passed an iPhone to Eric. It was password encrypted. Pam pressed four digits and the screen was unlocked. She browsed through the applications on the screen before she landed on the sunflower icon that contained the photos.

Eric sifted through the photo slides and he could feel his temper flaring as he stared at the pictures Franklin Mott took of him and _her. _From the lobby at the North all the way to El Gordo.

"Mott didn't get the chance to email it to Sophie Anne yet. He probably wanted to give it to her in person so he could ask for more money," Pam answered Eric's unspoken query.

Eric felt a wave of relief wash over him. There was no way he would allow Sophie Anne to drag _her_ into this. He was certain if Sophie Anne had knowledge of _her_, the Frost Queen would not have any qualms using _her_ as leverage. He was sure because that was exactly what he would have done. Alas, Sophie Anne was a boring little twat, whose only skeleton in the closet was her bisexuality.

"Call Stan and tell him I'll sit in tomorrow with his meeting with Sophie Anne," Eric told Pam, who was already dialing before Eric was finished barking out his order.

A few minutes later and it was mission accomplished for Pam. However, Eric wasn't done with her.

"Get me Sookie's number from the previous owners. Her contact number wasn't included in her dossier you submitted," Eric asked again.

"That's because she doesn't have one. She has no landline or mobile phone," Pam answered with some flippancy in her tone.

Eric knotted his brows as he scoffed at her. "Who doesn't have a cellphone at this age anymore? What is she, Amish? What does she use to call her brother in Louisiana?"

Pam shrugged. "Maybe they just light up firewood and one of them will keep a look out for smoke."

Sam chuckled at Pam's joke but Eric wasn't amused. How could he tell _her_ that he couldn't make it to their tour tomorrow?

'_Who the fuck cares? She doesn't. She'll be glad you're not there,'_ a mean voice inside his head rambled.

Eric pinched his eyes to shut the fucking voice up. He turned back to Pam. "How many employees does Fiordillatte have?"

"Twenty five, give or take. Including the waitstaff."

"Get the specific number then order as many cellphones to give to the staff. Make the previous owners give them away so it won't look suspicious. Tell them it'll be like a signing bonus from the new boss, a sign of good faith," Eric said as he ran his fingers through his short dark blonde hair.

Pam and Sam both gave Eric a curious look. It was Pam who voiced it out. "Why not just give Sookie a phone, I'm sure the other employees aren't as backward as her."

"Because she won't take it. That girl has too much pride to accept a gift. But if it's given in bulk to all the other staff, she'll think it is a work thing," Eric explained exasperatedly.

Eric could already imagine her face if she finds out it was from him. He took a deep breath. Why couldn't she be like the other women he dated who would giggle and blush at the sight of a gift from him, he thought.

Pam leered at Eric before she walked away. "At least when you do fire me, I know where to look for a job. I heard the Italian resto by the Flamingo has a very generous boss," she drawled as she exited the holding area.

Eric paid Pam's sarcastic remark no mind as he moved on to Sam.

**E/S**

Sookie woke up before her alarm clock went off. She could see the graying sky through her window. She checked the time and was surprised to realize it was only five in the morning.

'_Am I excited or what?'_ she thought sardonically. The idea of getting worked up over seeing Eric Northman was unacceptable. She told herself that she was indeed thrilled, but not because of Eric Northman.

'_No siree, Bob.'_

It was the idea of playing Scully that enticed her to the point of restlessness. Even though her Mulder was more like murder to her.

She went back to bed and closed her eyes, willing herself to go back to sleep for another hour.

But tried as she might, she couldn't.

She tossed and turned until she finally gave up. She got up, made her bed then boiled a cup of water from the electric kettle for her instant coffee.

She found some leftover spring rolls and two fortune cookies in her small fridge from last night's dinner. She didn't have a microwave, only an old toaster, so she ate the rolls and cookies as she found them: ice cold.

Afterward, she took a leisurely bath, and thirty minutes later she was all dressed and brushing her hair dry, in front of an electric fan. She didn't want to use the air conditioner that came with the apartment. They didn't have one in Bon Temps and she didn't know how much it would cost her to utilize it, no matter how sparingly. She was used to the simplicity of the fan anyway, she thought.

After much internal debate, she ended up wearing her skinny jeans that she paired with a loose and frilly pink top. She reasoned to herself that she would be comfortable wearing something flattering to match the enormous ego of Eric Northman. She even sprayed a little cologne she bought from the drugstore last night while Jason was ordering Chinese takeout.

She took the bus on the way to the Golden Nugget hotel, the pick-up and drop-off point of the tour.

Because it was still early for the tourists and residents alike, Sookie made it to the Golden Nugget with more than twenty minutes to spare. The head of the VIP tour greeted her and offered her refreshments while waiting for the rest of their party to arrive.

Ten minutes before 7.30am, the tour guide let Sookie inside a massive white SUV. Sookie was getting twitchy, it was almost time to leave and none of the other passengers were showing up.

She was beginning to wonder if Eric Northman would be her only company in the trip. It wouldn't be impossible considering who he was. It wouldn't be beyond him to book the whole tour so he would not have to sit beside a complete stranger for eight hours.

She checked the time at the van's dashboard. It was 7.25am, five more minutes and she would be free to go X-Files by herself, without the constant intrusion of Eric Northman with all his annoying questions.

Her gaze flickered back to the digital clock, 7.27am, three more minutes and the van would leave with or without him.

Another glance, 7.29am. _'Where the hell are you, Eric Northman?!'_

Then the door swung open and Sookie almost fell on her seat from relief. She put on her trademark scowl as she gazed at the door, ready to shoot daggers at him.

But it wasn't him.

She balked in her seat as her lips parted in astonishment. She gaped at the medium-built man with ruffled reddish blonde hair - with a scar on his left cheek - as he made his way inside the van.

"Miss Stackhouse?" he asked.

Sookie's eyebrows drew together as she eyed him suspiciously. "Who's askin'?"

The man went inside the van and sat across her. He extended his hand to Sookie as he introduced himself with a meek smile. "Sam Merlotte. Mr. Northman sent me on his behalf. He had an urgent business he couldn't get away from. He sent his apologies."

'_Yeah, I bet. He must have overslept so he sent the first guy on his speed dial,' _Sookie thought bitterly.

She was surprised on how disappointed she felt when the insufferable jerk canceled on her. It might be because she came up with a lot of snarky comebacks for him last night.

Sam saw a flicker of dissatisfaction broke across her face before she composed herself to seem unaffected. Although her saddened look flashed only fleetingly, it didn't escape the Hawk's eyes.

He made a mental note to himself to include her reaction in his report to the Viking later.

After Pam left last night Eric asked Sam if he had been to Area 51.

The Hawk was a computer expert who had a degree in Electrical Engineering from Caltech. He had a vast collection of graphic novels, a fancy word for comic books, from both Marvel and DC. Most of his collection, aside from the smut comic books, were all in mint condition. Every year, he would take a weeklong vacation from work to attend a comic convention in San Diego.

In short, Sam was a total geek. And yes, he had been to Area 51, many, many times before.

So when Eric asked him if he would be interested in visiting Area 51 again. He didn't even ask the Viking if it was a trick question, he just agreed.

When he found out he would be going with the blonde they caught colluding with Bill Compton, he couldn't keep the grin that crept on his face. "Don't get any stupid ideas, Hawk. I know where you live," Eric warned Sam before they parted last night.

Julius, the tour guide pulled Sam out of his pondering when he asked them if they were ready to see where the little green men landed.

The trip turned out to be enjoyable to a certain degree for Sookie. After Sam introduced himself as Eric Northman's head of surveillance at the casino, Sookie was ready to hate him as much as she despised his employer.

But Sookie found it hard to loathe someone as polite, modest and nerdy as Sam. When they reached the expansive dry lake that had a breathtaking view, Sam enthusiastically assumed the role of the tour guide.

Sam was like a voice recording running on Energizer as he pointed out scenic tour spots to Sookie. He turned out to be more knowledgeable about the area than the tour guide himself.

Julius had taken the role of official photographer as he insisted on taking Sookie and Sam's pictures at the places that were symbolic to extraterrestrial beings. They visited the famous Little A'Le'Inn where they stopped for lunch, then they headed off to the Area 51 Research Center and the Black Mail Box.

Since Sookie didn't have a camera she was more than pleased that her package included souvenir photos. Julius asked if Sookie and Sam could pose together at the Extraterrestrial Highway but Sam, out of fear for what Eric would do to him if he saw the pictures, graciously declined. Which Sookie appreciated immensely.

Despite Sam's delightful presence, Sookie found herself missing Eric Northman's irritating company. She quickly shook it off and chalked it up to the eerie scenery. She always had an unusual curiosity toward the unknown and dangerous.

Sookie gave herself a good chiding the second time she caught herself thinking of Eric Northman.

When they got to the actual perimeter of Area 51 - where a sign read, "use of deadly force authorized," - Sookie couldn't help but laugh at its dark humor.

They were on their way back to Vegas when Sam started talking more about himself and less about the aliens.

Sookie found out that Sam, like her, was also an orphan. He and his brother Tommy stayed at foster homes since he was eight and Tommy was four. Their parents died in a fire when their house in Florida was set ablaze due to a gas leak. They barely made it out alive, which explained the scar on his face. But since they had no other relatives who could take care of them, they were thrown from one home into another.

Sam was smart so it wasn't hard to find a home for him. But Tommy wasn't like him. He was a troublemaker. But because Sam refused to be separated from his brother, the two of them had a difficult time staying at one place for long periods.

Tommy realized what a burden he was to Sam and decided to run away when he was nine. Child Protective Services looked for Tommy but they soon found out it was difficult to find someone who didn't want to be found. After two months of relentless probing, the government agency finally gave up on the younger Merlotte.

Sam was devastated. He threatened to run off, too, to search for his brother but the CPS kept him on a tight leash after what happened to Tommy. A year later, he was adopted by a middle class family from California. His new family was very accepting. They loved Sam and gave him proper education to hone his above-average intelligence.

After he graduated from Caltech, he went straight to Vegas. With his impressive resume, Godric hired him on the spot. Sam never told Godric though why he wanted to work in Las Vegas, of all places. He didn't tell Godric it was because he was looking for Tommy, who was last spotted in Vegas a couple of years back.

Sam started his wild-goose-chase in the City of Sin. But after five years he still couldn't locate his missing brother.

It was only when Eric Northman took Godric's post that Sam finally got reunited with Tommy.

Eric, during his first year as CEO, became adamant on keeping tabs on all the people working under his wing. After much digging around, the Viking found out about Sam's fruitless quest to find his sibling. Unbeknownst to Sam, Eric deployed a team of private investigators to look for Tommy. Eric didn't want to let Sam in on the mission to spare him the heartache in case the operation turned out futile as well. The Viking, through his contacts from the law enforcement in Vegas, issued an all-point bulletin for Tommy Merlotte.

After three months of persistent hunt, spearheaded by Eric, Tommy was found. He became a crystal meth addict, who was working as a runner for a small narcotic syndicate based in Carson City.

Two years of rehabilitation later, Tommy came back to Sam. He was now working at the home for the aged facility in West Las Vegas.

Sookie didn't realize she was crying until Sam offered her his handkerchief.

She was a sucker for reunion stories. It might be because she never had one.

'_What do you know the devil has a heart,'_ she thought in amusement. Eric Northman was a walking contradiction, she added internally.

Sookie was at odds with her emotions. She could feel the truth behind what Sam told him but the jaded part of her was having doubts. _'Why would you believe the devil's advocate, Sookie?'_ it whispered in her head. _'Eric Northman's playing you. Don't trust him or anyone who works for him.'_

Her fist involuntarily clenched as she tried to shoo away the awful voice.

There was a part of her that wanted to share some of her tales of woe to Sam, but she couldn't. Somehow, it didn't feel right. Yesterday when she was revealing her series of unfortunate of events to Eric Northman, she was amazed at how easy her secrets came pouring out of her mouth. Sookie decided it was because it was easier to confide in a stranger than a friend. It boggled her mind why she was apprehensive toward the geeky but delightful Sam Merlotte but not to the arrogant and apathetic Eric Northman.

By the time they reached the Strip, Sookie was still baffled. Sam asked Julius if he could drop him off at the North instead of the Golden Nugget. He told Sookie that his shift would start at seven o'clock tonight. Sookie found herself thinking of the owner of the North. She wondered if he were done with his exigent meeting. If he were back at his hotel?

Sam bid Sookie good bye as he got off at the lobby. For a fleeting moment, Sookie debated whether to get off as well and follow Sam inside.

But before she could make up her mind, their SUV was already making its way back to the Golden Nugget. Private cars and hotel shuttles were merging in one lane causing a bottleneck toward Fremont Street that their driver decided to make a U-turn to the Luxor and use the special lane the hotel allotted for private vehicles.

As they were passing by the lobby, Sookie caught sight of tall, blonde man assisting a beautiful redhead inside a black and shiny stretch limo. Sookie did a double take as the tall guy in a gray and white suit, planted a kiss on the redhead's knuckles before he flashed her what Jason called was _his_ 'dashing smile.'

Sookie forced herself to look away. Luckily, the SUV started moving along.

'_I told you so. Eric Northman will get bored with you faster than you can say asshole,'_ the voice inside her head taunted her.

"Asshole," she whispered before a single tear rolled down her eye.

**A/N: I do not own the characters. I only wish I do.**

**Please don't kill me! I know this isn't what you expected. I just want to set the stage for the opening of the restaurant, which will be up in the next chapter. Don't hate me, puh-lease! **

**I'm sorry if you guys find the back stories in this chapter to be sleep-inducing. I only want to highlight the different faces of Eric Northman. **

**As always, you guys are the best! Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews and feedback. They feed the muse truly. Again, I have no beta and this is hot off the press, so please forgive the glaring mistakes. Love, love, love, my sweets!**


	11. Chapter 11

"Always a pleasure, Sophie," Eric said with a lazy smile. "Next time you visit, let me know. I'll be sure to give you a special discount when you stay at the Regent."

Sophie Anne couldn't hide the grimace in her face when Eric ushered her inside her limo. "Enjoy your victory while it lasts, Viking. Not every day is Christmas at the North."

"Oh but it is. There's a big guy in a red suit that says so," he retorted dryly. He slammed the car door shut and tapped the roof twice before he swaggered inside the lobby of the Luxor.

Stan Davis and three of his lawyers were still in the conference room crunching the numbers and listing the specifics that they were going to present to Eric Northman and his board of directors.

Eric walked in without knocking, looking every bit like he already owned the place. He went straight to Stan's desk.

"You sure know how to make a girl blush, Northman," Stan Davis said with a touch of gaiety.

Eric's hearty laugh boomed in the room. "I didn't notice with all the red in her hair."

Eric recalled the look on Sophie Anne Leclerq's face when she entered the conference room. It was like watching a building collapse into a pile of rubble after a demolition bomb had been detonated.

He loved every fucking second of it.

It almost made missing his tour with _her_ worth it. Almost.

When Eric was closing a deal he always operated with a predatorial behavior. But this time it was different, he was not only rapacious. He was also mad and frustrated, a pretty deadly combination. Sophie Anne and her attorney didn't stand a chance against Eric Northman and his legal counsel.

"You do know Sophie Anne will not take this lying down. You saw the look on her face when I agreed to your terms," Stan said without a hint of humor.

"That's why we need to wrap it up as soon as possible. My investors were already alerted. They're flying in here as we speak. Can you make it tomorrow morning when I meet with the board?" Eric asked.

"I'll be there."

Eric gave his lawyers a few more orders before he left. He was in the mood to commemorate his victory.

If only he could see her right now.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie went straight to Fiordilatte from the Golden Nugget to see Jason. But because her brother would be working until midnight she decided to go home and have an early night instead.

Jason and the rest of the contractors needed to do all the finishing touches before the employees go back tomorrow morning to plan the menu for the re-opening dinner on Wednesday.

Sookie took another long bath and decided to skip dinner as she readied herself for bed with one of Jason's old Bon Temps t-shirts and an old pajama bottoms.

She convinced herself her lethargy was because of her tiring day and not because of what and _who_ she saw at the Luxor.

She was having a cup of warm green tea when someone knocked on her door. She grunted after she took a peek at the peephole. _'So much for a quiet night.'_

"Bill," she greeted her visitor with an obligatory nod.

Bill Compton, dressed in a beige shirt tucked inside a pair of dark brown slacks, flashed her a meek smile. "Good evening, Sookie."

"What can I help you with, Bill?" she asked civilly. Bill was the last person she wanted to see tonight. Well, second to the last, behind Eric Northman.

"I was in the neighborhood," Bill said while his eyes scoured the inside of her living room. "Can I come in?"

Sookie didn't want to do any entertaining tonight. All she wanted to do was bury herself under her blanket and force herself to sleep. That trick always worked for her in the past. She realized a long time ago that life was filled with blighted hope. But as sure as there were disappointments there were also new days. And new days meant new beginnings. Right now, Bill Compton was making it difficult for her to move on.

"I appreciate the gesture, Bill. But I'm kinda beat. Can we do it some other time?" Sookie said apologetically. She didn't need to fake exhaustion, she really was.

"Was it something I did, or was it something Eric Northman told you I did?" he asked unexpectedly. His gentleman façade was starting to crumble as irritation became evident on his face.

"What?" Sookie asked equally annoyed.

"I knew you went out with him yesterday. So tell me, Sookie, what did that bastard tell you about me?" Bill asked as he gripped the doorframe with both hands, blocking Sookie from closing the door.

"That's the real reason you're here, isn't it?" Sookie spat. "You didn't come here to check up on me. You wanted to fish for information about _him_."

Bill had the decency to drop his gaze, but his hands were still clamped on the doorframe.

"He is a master manipulator, Sookie. He lies like a rug. He will fabricate stories about me to make you think badly of me!"

"It's like listenin' to a freakin' broken record with you two! Eric Northman is Satan. Bill Compton is Judas. Well, guess what, I don't freakin' care! Stop usin' me as your pawn in this little perverse game you two have," Sookie snapped. "If you two want to have a pissin' contest, do it in your own backyard."

There were three more apartment units in her floor. Sookie saw the door across hers open slightly. She ignored it while she turned her attention back to Bill, who looked scorned by her outburst.

"I'm sorry if you feel that way, Sookie. It's never my intention to put you in the middle of this," Bill said softly. "Whatever Eric told you, it's not true. He hates me because his father favored me more than him."

Sookie started to shake her head furiously. She didn't want to hear anything about Eric Northman.

Bill fastened his hands on her shoulders as he urged her to look at him.

"Please, Sookie, listen to me," Bill begged.

Sookie inhaled sharply as she stared him down.

Bill let go of her as he started telling her about his relationship with Godric. Sookie never said a word as Bill tried to enlighten her about his complicated relationship with the Viking.

"Godric, Eric's father, was my mentor. He hired me personally. He didn't care that I had no experience. Godric said it was easier to train someone without any background. Like soft clay ready for molding," Bill started as he tucked his hands inside his trouser's pockets. He looked down at his feet before he continued.

"Eric saw how close I was with Godric that he became jealous. He started showing interest in his father's business but Godric didn't trust Eric as much as he trusted me. When Godric's health went downhill, Eric was scared that Godric put me in his will so planted a lot of evidence against me so I would be terminated from the North and would no longer be a threat to him."

Bill swallowed thickly as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting for Sookie's reaction.

"I'm sorry, Bill, but can you try that again," Sookie said with an icy stare. She had to give Bill credit. His elucidation was elaborately rehearsed. He probably said it far too many times before he started to believe it. However, Sookie was trained to spot liars and cheaters. And it wasn't hard to see through Bill's subterfuge.

Bill's body language gave him away. The way he put his hands inside his pockets told Sookie he didn't want to reveal his real motive. His eyes kept dropping to the floor which indicated uncertainty and guilt. And his constant shifting suggested discomfiture from the lie he just told.

"Pardon?" Bill asked confounded by her response.

"I thought we were friends, Bill. Quite frankly I find your lie more than offensive. It meant you didn't trust me enough with the truth."

Bill looked indignant as he crossed his arms across his chest defensively.

"I'm disappointed with you, Sookie. I thought you were smarter than that. How can you accuse me of lying when I have been nothing but helpful to you?"

Sookie didn't budge from his conniption. She just kept her steely gaze on him.

"I hate cockroaches," Sookie blurted in a clinical tone. "You know what I hate more than roaches, Bill? Liars. At least a cockroach respects me enough to wait for me to sleep before it craps in my food. Liars, on the other hand, throw a load of dump on me while trying to hold my gaze."

"I am not a liar, Sookie! I told you, Eric's trying to turn you against me. If you can't see the truth then -"

"Stop it, Bill! Before I lose my patience with you," Sookie said in a low, threatening voice.

"Sookie -"

"You have the worst poker face, Bill. Don't gamble away your last dime or you'll go broke. Good night," Sookie said before she slammed the door shut.

* * *

**E/S**

Pam greeted Eric with a bottle of champagne when he walked in his office.

"Shall I start calling you Your Majesty now?" Pam asked as she popped the cork of the pricy bottle.

"Oh, stop. Master will do," he replied with a big dose of cheekiness. "Have you made the arrangements for the board tomorrow? Stan will sit in. But hold off the press for a while. Stan wanted the sale on the down low until he moves all his assets to the Cayman Islands."

Pam acquiesced with a soft nod as she handed Eric a glass of bubbly.

"Is Sam in yet?" he asked out of the blue.

"I don't know. I haven't been down there since this afternoon. Why? You have another rat for him to find?" Pam asked nonchalantly before she took a sip from her drink.

"Can you check? I sent him on an errand this morning. I want to know how it went." Eric grabbed his iPad from his desk and started browsing through the pictures of Sookie from earlier when she was at her Area 51 tour with Sam.

Eric felt a pang of jealousy shot through him as his fingers glided over the screen. His eyes feasted on the images of her as she interacted with Sam.

Among Eric's favorites was when she was staring intently at Sam with her brows furrowed in concentration while the Hawk was pointing at something down by what seemed to be a dry lake. The other one was when she was grinning from ear to ear at Sam.

Eric rarely felt envious of anybody because, well, he was Eric Northman. But right now, as much as it pained him to admit it, he was green with envy with his dorky computer genius.

Speak of the devil, Eric's techie employee sauntered inside the office. He was sporting the same glorious tan _she h_ad. Eric suppressed a growl as he approached the Hawk.

Pam offered Sam a champagne flute which the latter accepted with glee.

"How was it?" Eric asked Sam as he walked over to the couch where two of his most trusted employees were sitting.

Sam was certain Eric already knew how the trip went. With his skilled eyes, it was fairly easy for him to spot Eric's men who were shadowing them from an inconspicuous distance. "It was great, boss," Sam said with a little too much flippancy, which earned Sam a frosty glare from the Viking.

Sam almost choked on his drink as he tried to retract his former statement. "I meant it was fine. Well, of course for me it was great, because you know its Area 51 'n all and not because I enjoyed being with her. Well, yes I had fun with her, but not too much fun."

Pam raised her brow with a bemused look as she watched Sam sputter words like his life depended on it.

Eric turned his back on Sam and Pam as he went back to his browsing. He quickly deleted the ones with Sam in it. He didn't need a constant reminder that he missed his chance to spend the day with her because Sophie Anne was too immature to properly conduct a business.

He gazed out his window, it was almost dark and he could see the outline of the Regent at his right. He only hoped acquiring Queen Regent was worth it.

Then he realized the absurdity of his sentiment.

What the hell was he thinking?

He had been courting that certain Queen for over two years. Of course it was worth it! No woman would be worth more than his Queen.

Not even _her_.

She was nothing more than the flavor of the month. Hell, the only reason she held his interest this long was because she kept resisting him.

But she wouldn't be for long. He already had special plans to lure her out of her comfort zone.

She would be begging for his adoration before the end of this week.

But, first, he needed to see her.

Eric set his glass down on his mahogany table as he made his way to the door.

"Make sure the directors are well taken care of, Pam. Tell them I'm unavailable for the night, and that I'll see them in the board meeting at eight tomorrow. If something exigent comes up, call me on my cell. If any of you call me for anything less than a bar, I'll hang you upside down," Eric said as he pointed his mobile phone at his staff before reached for the door knob.

Pam abruptly stood up from the couch as she tried to catch up with Eric. "Where are you going?"

"To celebrate. I deserve it, don't you think?" the Viking replied as he slipped his cellphone inside the breast pocket of his blazer.

"With _her_?" she asked sharply.

"Yes," he replied without missing a beat. There was no point denying it from Pam or Sam. They were both privy to his growing fascination with _her_.

"Do you think that's a good idea, Eric? Sophie Anne's still in town. Who knows if she only hired that worthless Mott to follow you?" Pam pointed out. "Why don't you hold off for a few days until the frost bitch gets back to Paris and the Regent deal is finalized?"

Eric stiffened as he clenched his jaw. Pam was right. He couldn't succumb to his primal instincts now. Not when Sophie Anne was still lurking somewhere, waiting for him to make an error.

"You'll see her on Wednesday, anyway. At least give her time to miss you," Pam added in consolation when Eric didn't move from the double doors.

"I think she already does, boss," Sam butted in, which made Eric turn in his direction.

"How did you know?" Eric asked doubtfully. There was no way she told Sam that.

"Nothing escapes the all-seeing eye of Sauron, boss," Sam said reverently.

Eric snorted before he shook his head in disdain. "You need to get yourself a girlfriend, Hawk. You are way too nerdy."

Sam sniggered before he downed his glass of champagne.

Eric thought Sam was trying to placate him but he decided to hold on to that small shred of hope that he might be growing on _her_, anyway.

"Fine," Eric said after a few a while. "I'll be in my suite."

He swung the door open and stepped outside. Pam followed him through the hall. "Want me to get you someone to keep you busy?"

"Don't bother. Lost my appetite," Eric said before he stepped inside the lift that would bring him up to his suite.

As soon as he entered his suite, he pulled out his mobile phone and dialed the number of one of his men he sent to tail _her_.

"Mr. Northman," the man on the other line spoke in a low voice.

"Where is she?" Eric asked straight to the point. He didn't bother addressing the man on the other line.

"She's back in her apartment, sir. She went to the restaurant from the Golden Nugget but she didn't stay long."

Eric was instantly comforted by the thought that she was also having a quiet night, like him. He wasn't sure he could keep his distance from her if he found out she was out frolicking with anybody at the Strip. Maybe she was tired from her tour. The sharp pang came back in his chest as he thought of what could have been their second outing.

"Very well. Stay close to her. You're still across the hall, yes?" he inquired. Eric rented the apartment across her so the surveillance team would have easy access to her in case she would require any immediate assistance.

"Yes, sir," the man answered quickly. "Uhm… sir, actually there was a slight disturbance earlier."

Eric's temper shot up. "What do you mean 'slight disturbance'? Was there a break in? Was she hurt?"

"No, Mr. Northman! It was Bill Compton. He dropped by earlier to check up on her."

'_Fucking Compton!'_ Eric thought, fuming.

"Is he still there?" Eric asked, the anger in his voice could easily be detected.

"Not anymore, sir. Miss Stackhouse drove him away. He didn't even make it inside the unit. They had a bit of an argument. We were ready to swoop in to assist Miss Stackhouse, but she didn't look like she needed any."

Eric closed his eyes as he smiled like a cat that just had a fat mouse for dinner. _'My little firecracker.'_

The Viking asked the man shadowing her to keep a lookout for Compton and to alert him right away if that prick showed up again, regardless of the time.

He hung up the phone as he propped himself down on the couch as he began scrolling through his contacts. He found the number he was looking for and pressed the call button. After two rings, the person on the other line picked up.

"Eric?" a man's croaky voice blared out, astonishment laced in his tone.

"Marco."

"Polo," the man replied with jolliness.

"Very funny," Eric said dryly. "I'm calling in that favor you owe me."

"Oh? What can you possibly need me for?" Marco asked, clearly piqued.

"I'm opening a new Italian bistro at the Strip. I do not have much confidence in the staff. We're set to open on Wednesday. Can you drop by there tomorrow and watch over their preparations? I don't want any glitch in the opening dinner."

There was a long pause from the other line as Marco pondered upon the Viking's unusual request. Marco Alfonso was a three-Michelin-starred chef who was running one of the best Italian restaurants in Los Angeles. If Eric wanted someone to baby sit his new acquisition, he could have sent anyone of his award-winning chefs. But because the Viking called him, it meant there were more at stake.

"What's her name?" Marco asked finally.

Eric chuckled. Marco was one of his closest friends he met when he was still living in Los Angeles. During the recession in 2008, Marco's business plummeted. It only survived because Eric rushed to his aid and lent Marco enough money to stay afloat and evade bankruptcy. Marco's restaurant, which was aptly named after him - Alfonso's, rode the financial wave and managed to return to its former glory.

Ergo, the favor.

"_Vaffanculo_! (Fuck you!)" Eric exclaimed with levity. He was starting to doubt his move to call Marco. He could already imagine the teasing he would get from his friend if he found out Eric was fixating over a girl like _her_.

"_Vaffanculo_, Viking!" Marco retorted with the same amount of humor. "Now are you going to tell me why you really want me to drop everything here and fly to Las Vegas to _assess_ this restaurant of yours?"

"You'll know when you get here," Eric replied cryptically. "And why did you assume it was because of a woman?"

"Because my _pezzo_ friend, most of the time your dick does the thinking for you," Marco responded. "And the only reason you'll call me is because you are desperate to show me off as your famous friend. So is it safe to say your girl is a chef? Or at least someone parading herself as one?"

"You can say that," Eric answered with a smirk. "First thing tomorrow, Marco. I have a meeting in the morning so look for Pam. She'll take you to the bistro. As far as I know, the employees are all amateurs. Don't hesitate to put them in their rightful places. I'll see you back at the North at four."

"_Aspetta_! (Wait)," Marco said quickly before Eric hang up the phone. "You didn't give me the name."

"That's for you to find out, you lazy fuck," with that Eric disconnected the line.

'_This should be interesting,'_ Eric thought with a satisfied grin as he ran the pad of his thumb over his lower lip.

He knew Marco had a mouth that could give Gordon Ramsay a run for his money. Pair it with _her_ temper and it would be a fucking cockfight.

And after Marco was done bashing her, she would be throwing herself in Eric's arms to find comfort.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own them. They belong to AB and CH. If only they knew how to take better care of them. *sigh***

**I know I promised the resto opening in this chapter, but this one got away from me and got too long. So I decided to break it in half. I'm still finishing up the second part and I'll post it as soon as I'm done, promise! **

**Here goes my profession of shameless love to all my fabulous readers and reviewers: THANK YOU all so, so much! You have no idea how much inspiration you all provide me. Love, love, love, my dearies! **

**P.S. forgive my (I'm sure) many, many mistakes.**


	12. Chapter 12

Sookie arrived at Fiordilatte at eight o'clock sharp. One of the line cooks, Holly Cleary, who was in-charge of the fresh pasta station and Alcee Beck - the kitchen porter, were already in the kitchen having their morning coffee.

Holly offered Sookie a cup, which the latter gratefully accepted. Sookie smiled as she realized her similarity to Holly. Back in Bon Temps, when she was working the morning shift, she would get in earlier than the other barmaids and start working the coffee machine so she could have one cup of fresh brew before they opened for the day.

Lafayette didn't mind. The first time he caught her sneaking out a cup o' joe, he only shrugged his ebony and glittery shoulder and said, _'Sugar, if that's where you're gettin' your juju, then don't let me stop you.' _

Sookie suddenly felt homesick just thinking of her former employer who was as gay as a french horn and as nice as her gran's pecan pie.

She inhaled the aromatic scent of the dark concoction before she took a sip of her piping hot coffee and waited for the boost that she was sure would follow.

She badly needed that pick-me-up because last night was a disaster. Sookie was seething after Bill had left. She couldn't believe he would have the audacity to confront her like that. And to throw it in her face that he was the one who helped her get settled in Las Vegas was the icing on the cake.

She thought Bill Compton was her ally, someone she considered family. That he was assisting her out of the goodness of his heart.

How wrong she was.

He was like everyone else whose aid came with strings.

Now, she had another motivation. She would be beholden to no man. She would settle her father's debt along with every penny Bill shelled out for her. Down to the last dime. Even if she had to work like a Trojan to do so.

She was wallowing in her woeful mood when Terry Bellefleur snuck up behind her as he came in through the back door.

"Hiya, Sook! How's your weekend, doll?"

Her face softened as she smiled at the mild-mannered _chef de partie_, who was putting on his white jacket.

Not long after that, Selah Pumphrey came in with her signature frown. Then the rest of the cooking staff also trickled in.

When all the employees were set, Tara and JV entered the kitchen carrying four large paper bags. Terry rushed in to help JV while Selah inquired what was in the bags.

"Phones," Tara answered with very little enthusiasm. "Gift from your new employer."

That earned a collective yip from the crew. JV started dispensing the small boxes to the staff. It was the newest model of iPhone. And the room instantly came alive as the employees eagerly tore the flimsy plastic wrappers off the boxes.

Sookie, on the other hand, was more skeptical than thrilled. Just when she was thinking that there were no such things as gifts without strings, she suddenly received one. _'What's the catch?'_ she thought with pessimism.

As if reading her thoughts, Tara pulled her in a corner and began talking to her in a hushed tone. "Remember what I told you, Sookie. Shut your trap and do your job. If you want to survive in Vegas, you have to grow a thick skin. Got me?"

Sookie bobbed her head in assent. What was it with Tara and her cryptic messages, she thought. She was about to ask her former boss to elaborate on her advice when the kitchen door slammed open and a man in a plain white shirt and faded jeans burst in.

"Chef Alfonso?!" Tara asked in awe as she gaped at the newcomer with starstruck eyes. "Wh-What are doing here?"

Sookie was surprised, not with the man's arrival but by Tara's reaction. She had never seen Tara gawp at anyone with such reverence. Sookie turned her gaze at the visitor. He was probably in his late thirties or early forties. He had neatly coiffed dark hair and blue eyes. He was lean and taut and was the same height as Jason.

"You must be Tara Thornton-DuRone?" he said with a thick foreign accent.

"Yes, chef. I'm Tara. This is my husband, JV and these are my staff, well, my former staff. We just sold the place," Tara said in a high-pitched voice.

"Yes, I'm aware. I'm here as a favor to the new owner. He told me you'll be holding the re-opening dinner tomorrow night, _si_?"

"_Si_, chef," Tara replied, as she tried to mimic the visitor's accent, which made Sookie wince.

The visitor leered at Tara's attempt to parrot him. His eyes roamed the surrounding. The rest of the staff seemed to stiffen under his scrutiny. Everyone but Sookie, who was trying to keep her face blank. That was the least she could do to keep from grimacing at the newcomer rude behavior.

The man's eyes lingered on Sookie a little longer before they returned to Tara. "Where is the executive chef?"

Selah Pumphrey, who looked as avid as Tara, stepped forward and extended her hand at the new guy.

"Chef Alfonso, it's an honor to meet you in person," she stuttered.

Sookie's cheeks hurt just by looking at Selah's strained grin. It was over-the-top.

"And you are?" the man inquired understatedly.

"Selah Pumphrey, chef. I'll be taking over the kitchen when Chef Tara steps down."

The newcomer gave Selah a once-over before he gave her a stiff nod. "_Bene _(Good), let's get to work now, shall we?"

"Excuse me, chef?" Selah asked in shock. Her unnatural smile died on her lips.

"I'll be overseeing your preparations. You can't expect the new owner to just let a newbie like you run the biggest dinner this restaurant will ever have," the man replied condescendingly. Sookie thought Selah shrunk a few inches from his not-so-subtle jab.

Selah and Tara's zealous expressions disappeared replaced by a perfect mix of indignation and shock.

Selah pulled Tara in a corner, a few steps from where Sookie was standing.

"What the fuck, Tara?" Selah hissed. "I thought I'll be the one running the show? What is Marco Alfonso doing here? Is he going to take over my kitchen now?"

"I don't know! In case you haven't noticed I'm also bypassed here. Go and find out what he has in mind while I make a call," Tara snarled before she crept silently into her office.

A few minutes later, Tara was back in the kitchen. She called Selah back into the corner, while JV and the hotshot Italian chef discussed the wine pairings.

"Turns out, you _will_ need a lot of help tomorrow night. The guest list is overwhelming to say the least. Apparently, this will be the first stop of the top dogs in Vegas before they go and watch the fireworks at the Strip. You'll be feeding a hundred fifty VIPs three-course dinners. And you'll be expected to serve four kinds of _hors d'oeuvre_ before dinner service starts," Tara said in haste.

Selah's eyes widened. Fiordilatte was a small family restaurant. It was known for its big plates of pasta and wide selection of antipasto. Nothing more. How in the world could she come up with three dishes and four appetizers in less than 24 hours?

Then Selah's concern turned into fear. "What about Alfonso? Will he be staying here for good? Is he going to replace me?" Selah cried. "We had a contract Tara!"

"No one's replacing you, Selah! Will you please relax? He's only here to supervise until the dinner tomorrow," Tara replied in an exasperated tone.

Selah was still fuming. "I need help, not supervision," she hissed.

Tara only shrugged apathetically. Selah rolled her eyes at Tara before she straightened her jacket and waltzed back to the main counter where JV and the other chef were all ears as Marco Alfonso started laying down the groundwork.

The hours passed by rather smoothly for Sookie. She took what Tara had told her to heart. She kept her head down and kept to herself, while Selah and Marco Alfonso hashed out the menu. Marco Alfonso, from what Sookie had gathered from Terry and Holly, was a very prominent figure in the food business.

It was a little over 2pm, Sookie had just taken a short break and was back in her station working on the task Selah gave her, when she had that nagging feeling she was being watched. She whipped her head around and found Marco Alfonso studying her closely while leaning on the table with his arms folded across his chest.

"Can I help you with somethin', chef?" Sookie asked, keeping her voice professional.

"What's your name?" he asked without preamble as he walked over to her counter.

Sookie was annoyed by his rudeness but decided to bite her tongue. "Sookie Stackhouse, chef."

"Sookie. What a peculiar name," he commented thoughtfully.

"So I've been told," she retorted. If she had a dollar for every time someone pointed out how unusual her name was, she and Jason would no longer be in debt.

"What are you doing, Sookie?" Her name rolled off his tongue like honey with his accent. She despised it.

It reminded her of how her name sounded from Eric Northman's mouth the first and only time he called her by her given name.

Sookie withheld a groan as she pointed out the obvious. "I'm preparing the _mise en place_ for the ragu bolognese, chef."

"Aren't you supposed to _brunoise_ the carrots, celery and onions?" he asked as he started sifting through the diced carrots Sookie had spent a good twenty minutes slicing into small cubes.

"I have no idea what a broon-waz is, chef. I was asked to cut them all into a small dice. And I don't think it's hygienic to dip your hand into that bowl," Sookie said through clenched teeth.

She could not stand his arrogance any longer. She had spent the past few hours listening to him ridicule Selah's techniques at every turn. He also lambasted the line cooks for getting his instructions wrong.

After six grueling hours of observing the new chef, Sookie had discerned Marco's fixation with the F-word since he usually punctuated his sentences with it or some foreign language she couldn't quite pronounce.

Sookie could barely hold it together when the great Marco Alfonso started picking on Terry. The experienced fish cook had been relegated to stirring the polenta because he failed to meet the top chef's soaring standard in deboning a sea bass.

But what irked Sookie the most was the egotistical cordon bleu's deep disregard for the sanctity of sustenance. He had no qualms throwing nicely cooked dish just because it was under-seasoned or a tad salty for his sensitive palate. Hearing the splatter of food as they reached the bottom of the waste bin made Sookie's skin crawl.

How many times had she slept with an empty stomach? How many times had she tried to salvage a spoiled dish because she didn't want to squander such a blessing? She had lost count.

Everything Marco Alfonso did since he stepped inside the kitchen was rubbing Sookie the wrong way. But she had kept her mouth shut because he didn't bother her - until now.

"Says who? Says the kitchen assistant who can't even do a decent _brunoise_ with a fucking carrot?" he said in a melodious, taunting voice. "I can do whatever the fuck I want. I have three fucking stars that say so. I will not be told otherwise, especially by an uptight, unskilled little girl like you," he whispered close to her ear, which made the hair on the back of her head raise.

Selah Pumphrey, who was eavesdropping on their conversation, decided to step in to assuage the growing tension.

"Is there a problem here, chef?" Selah asked Marco as she wedged herself between Sookie and the highfalutin Italian cook.

"Where are you getting these help?" Marco asked Selah, his eyes twitching in revulsion. "You're the _chef de cuisine_, are you not?"

Selah answered with a terse nod.

"Then teach your fucking employees how to cut a fucking carrot! Look at this," he scooped up a handful of the chopped vegetable and held it to Selah's face. "Does this look like a _brunoise_ to you?"

Sookie had had it. She would not allow Selah take the responsibility for her mistake, no matter how puny and ludicrous her error might be. She sidestepped Selah as she positioned herself in front of Marco.

"You have a problem with the way I chop my vegetables then blame me. And stop shovin' your freakin' stars at my face. I don't care for those," she blurted, her face flushed with anger.

Marco was taken aback by Sookie's sudden flare-up. His eyes landed on the imposing knife she was wielding in her hand and he could feel his palms turning clammy with panic. He didn't know Sookie well enough to be certain she wouldn't completely lose it and decide to stab him.

His hands shot up in surrender as he took a few steps back from Sookie. Selah locked gazes with Sookie before she looked sharply at the knife Sookie was waving in Marco's direction.

Sookie dropped her gaze at her hand and realized she must have looked like an irate psychopath in a Hitchcock movie. She placed her knife at the wooden chopping board gently as she turned her back on Marco and Selah. She felt her cheeks turn red from both shame and infuriation.

She gripped the cold edge of the tiled countertop as she took deep breaths to calm her nerves. She was sure everyone in the room was staring at her either from disdain or bewilderment. She pinched her eyes shut as she wished for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

Then all of a sudden Marco Alfonso moved beside her and grabbed the blade off the board. For a very brief moment, Sookie thought he was going to hack off her hand for her insolence.

With a soft but firm nudge of his hip, he made Sookie shift a little to her side so he would have more room to maneuver.

"This is how you do a _brunoise_," he said as he started slicing the carrots into thin strips before he diced them into tiny, uniform squares. It was like watching an artist work. His deft hands were moving with surgical precision, one could only acquire through years of practice.

"The key to a perfect _brunoise_ lies on how evenly you _julienned_ the carrot. It's the same with an onion. You have to peel the layers one by one. Then you flatten it on the board before you slice them into long thin strips," he explained while he demonstrated the movement to the dumbstruck Sookie.

The other cooks formed a semi-circle as they watched Marco Alfonso teach Sookie the basic cutting techniques. Even Selah, who had already mastered the basics, couldn't help but gawk at Marco as he did wonders with a medley of carrots, onions and celery.

Sookie, however, was befuddled. A few minutes ago, Marco Alfonso was berating anyone that moved inside the kitchen, now he was eagerly holding a crash course on how to do the perfect _julienne_, _allummette_ and _batonnet_, which, she found out, were just fancy words for matchstick slices.

'_Bipolar sicko!'_ Sookie thought.

Despite Marco's efforts to show off his skills, Sookie remained unimpressed. She had seen Lafayette chop up veggies just as fast - maybe not as graceful as Marco Alfonso but just as efficient. It was only a matter of quality over quantity. And with the tough life she led she would choose quantity over quality any day.

Sookie held back a grunt every time Marco would beam at her as though expecting some applause. She was itching to get back to work and she didn't like the attention she was getting from the self-centered asshole.

Luckily, JV came to her rescue as he called Marco outside to help them with the wine selections.

As soon as Marco left the kitchen to go into the dining hall, the employees that had gathered around Sookie went back to their respective stations.

Selah waited until no one else were close enough to hear them before she hovered over Sookie. "The hell are you trying to do? You want to get us all fired before we even opened? What do you think Chef Alfonso will tell the new owner with your callous behavior? Swinging a knife at a world-renowned chef like him? It's like you're begging to get torched!"

"Selah -" Sookie started ruefully.

"_Chef_ Selah. Learn how to address your superior, Sookie. You are the pond scum in the bottom of the chain here. _Do not_ forget that!"

Sookie inhaled sharply as she tried to tamp down her temper. "I'm sorry, _chef_."

"Holly, when you're done stuffing the ravioli, come here and finish the _mise en place_ for the bolognese," Selah called out to the blonde line cook behind Terry. "You," Selah pointed a finger at Sookie. "Go and scrub the oysters. Then put them back in the chiller. Do you think you can handle that?" she asked with a deprecating glare.

Sookie bit her lower lip before she nodded her assent.

"Ask Terry to teach you how to shuck an oyster because that's what you'll be doing tomorrow. I hope you have a strong grip because you'll need it to shuck 300 oysters," Selah added sardonically.

"Three hundred?" Marco's voice drew Selah and Sookie's eyes toward the door.

Marco slowly sauntered to Sookie and Selah's corner. "Don't you think that's a bit much? Are you going to start an orgy party?"

Selah fixed her eyes on the floor to avert Marco's piercing gaze. "It's for the oyster shots, chef. Among the four _amuse bouche_ to be served tomorrow night," Selah replied defensively.

"Do you know how to shuck an oyster, Sookie?" Marco asked in a gentle manner.

"Are you gonna pick on me again if I say no?" Sookie retorted before she could stop herself.

Marco flashed a toothy grin at Sookie before he shook his head. "No, _la mia ragazza coraggiosa_ (my brave girl). In fact, I'm going to offer my services. I know a thing or two about those stubborn fuckers. Before I became a chef I used to dive for pearls whenever I go to Palermo."

He took Sookie by her elbow and nudged her toward the fridge while Selah staggered behind them. "You don't need to do that, chef. I'm sure Sookie can manage such a small task."

Marco turned around and faced Selah. "Don't you have a menu to plan? The sommelier has arrived. He's waiting for you at the dining hall. Move along now, _chef_. _Andare!_ (Go!)"

Selah was put off by Marco's dismissal but decided to leave the kitchen anyway. There were still so many things to be done and she was running out of time. Selah threw a reproachful look at Sookie one last time before she stomped out of the room.

"You made your point, chef. I'm an imbecile who doesn't deserve to work in the kitchen. Can you drop the act now?" Sookie murmured in contempt as soon as Selah and the rest of the cooks went back to their chore.

"What act?" he asked with faux innocence.

"This Johnny-on-the-spot act. I know I'm not a trained cook like you or Selah but you don't need to rub it in my face," Sookie mumbled under her breath as she hauled a wooden crate out of the cooler.

Marco took the boxes from Sookie amid her protestations. He placed the crates filled with crushed ice and oysters covered with damp burlap sacks beside the sink.

"It's not an act, Sookie. I really want to teach you," he replied as he turned on the tap and grabbed a stiff-bristled brush.

Sookie looked at him dubiously. "Why?" she breathed.

"Because you're ballsy. It's rare to find a woman with balls nowadays. It's quite stimulating." He winked at her as he started cleaning the oyster shells under cold running water.

Sookie suddenly felt a wave of déjà vu. She had heard something like that from someone she didn't want to think about. Someone who was as rude and self-absorbed as the man standing beside her. Someone she already wrote off. Someone whose ass was so far up the North.

"I'm willing to teach you, Sookie. But if you think I'm going to do all the work for you, then you have another thing coming, _mia_ _bella _(my beautiful)," Marco said with a smirk.

Without another word, Sookie grabbed another brush and started imitating Marco's movements. They worked in silence for a good half hour, scrubbing the stubborn grime off the shells. They put the expensive shellfish back in their crates and covered them with new damp cloths before storing them back in the chiller.

Marco left two oysters behind as he showed Sookie how to properly shuck one. With Sookie's great eye for detail, she managed to mimic the action flawlessly in one attempt. Marco beamed proudly at her as he slurped the cream-colored flesh straight from its shell. He gestured for Sookie to do the same but Sookie was used to having her protein either broiled or deep-fried. She waved her hand in refusal as she washed her hands clean. Marco clucked his tongue in disapproval before he gobbled the second oyster.

The egoist chef then moved on to the pasta section, where Holly was busy kneading a fresh batch of dough. The celebrity chef dusted his hands with flour, ready to put his pasta-making expertise on display when his cellphone rang inside his jeans pocket. He turned to Sookie and held his flour-covered hands up before he playfully asked her if she could get his mobile phone from inside his pocket.

"I don't think so," Sookie replied with a glare, which earned her a gusty laugh from the pompous bastard.

Marco checked the caller ID before he glanced at the designer diver's watch on his wrist.

"Fuck!" he muttered under his breath.

It was five o'clock. He was supposed to meet Eric an hour ago at the North. He lost track of time and now he was going to pay for it.

"I'll be right back," he told Sookie before he went outside through the back door.

"Hello?" Marco greeted with caution.

"Where the fuck are you, Alfonso?!" Eric's growled.

"Eric!" he exclaimed as though he had just recognized who the caller was.

"Don't bullshit me, Marco," Eric threatened impatiently. "You know I don't want to be kept waiting."

"I've been held up," Marco said offhandedly. He peeked through the small window overlooking the kitchen as his eyes landed on Sookie who was cranking the manual pasta maker.

"You're not supposed to linger there, asshole. I sent you there to rattle the staff, that's it. What could have possibly kept you so fucking busy that you couldn't come back here in time?" Eric snarled.

Eric was rabid for an update on _her_. And he was counting on Marco to give him a full report an hour ago. The inside of the restaurant was the only place his men couldn't follow _her_ and it irritated Eric to no end.

"What can I say, Viking. Your employees were very _intriguing_. What's the word they use… ah, yes, feisty!" Marco said in amusement. He was aware of Eric's foul mood but he decided to worry about that later. For now, he would like to indulge his curiosity over the fearless girl who refused to be intimidated.

There was a pause on the other line before Eric spoke again, his voice devoid of any gaiety. "Playtime's over, Marco. Get back here, _now_!"

Marco heaved a sigh before he acquiesced. He went back into the kitchen and bid Sookie, and the other cooks, goodbye. As though on cue, Selah rushed into the kitchen and ran straight into Marco just as the latter was making his way into the dining area.

"I'll be back tomorrow afternoon," he told Fiordilatte's executive chef.

* * *

**E/S**

'_Feisty?!' _Eric thought as he paced the floor of his office with anxiety. _'Is he talking about __**her**__?'_

He buried his face in his hands as he contemplated Marco's obscure words. _'No. It's not possible.'_

He didn't like being kept in the dark. He didn't like being kept from her. He didn't like it that the lucky on son of a bitch was able to be in the same room with _her_ while he was forced to keep his distance.

Three loud knocks on his door brought him back to the present. The knock was merely for formality because not a minute later, Marco Alfonso barged inside and gave Eric a waggish punch on the shoulder. Before Eric could react Marco sailed to the mini bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Eric gritted his teeth as he watched his friend get acquainted with his expensive selection of whiskey. "Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked nonchalantly after a while.

"Verily," he replied as he sat on the sofa and raised his feet on the center table made of thick glass. "You were right. It was a disaster waiting to happen. They need help. A lot of help. The head chef is incompetent. Fucking pathetic."

Eric crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for the punch line_. _

"What's with the look, Viking?" Marco inquired with an amused grin.

"You found her." It wasn't a question. Eric could read Marco like an open book and he knew exactly when his friend was playing coy with him.

Marco's lips broke into a devilish grin. "I have to hand it to you, Eric. It wasn't easy. Not when your girl was trying hard to be invisible," he replied before he swirled the glass under his nose and took a sniff of the golden-colored liquid.

Eric sat behind his desk as he tried to hide the mirth from his face. _'Yes. That's __**her**__, alright.'_

"What made you say that?" Eric probed casually while pretending to read a contract he had already signed.

"Because she was the only one who wasn't gushing over me. At first, I thought it was because she didn't know who I was. But when she started swinging a knife at my face, that's when everything clicked in place," Marco said as he waved his index finger at Eric. "Your old pout-and-smirk trick didn't work on her. That's why you're pulling all the stops to win her over."

Eric couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Swung a knife at your face?!"

The Viking gaped at his friend with a combo of disbelief and hilarity. He had expected that Marco would butt heads with her, but never in his wildest imagination could he have predicted that she would go that far.

"A big-ass knife, mind you!" Marco joined in the laughter before he recounted what had happened in the restaurant earlier, including the part when he overheard Selah Pumphrey browbeating Sookie for her faux pas.

Eric's jaw clenched at the thought of someone giving _her _a hard time_. _

The Viking's reaction didn't escape Marco's notice. He made his way back to bar and poured Eric a glass of scotch. He positioned himself across the table as he handed the drink to Eric, who was still visibly vexed.

"Now, now, Eric. Sookie's a tough chick. She can handle herself against that hussy. Hell, she held her ground against us. A pretentious snob like Selah Pumphrey is child's play for our feisty _ragazza _(girl)," Marco said as he tried to pacify the Viking. "You, my friend, should be the one who should be worried."

Eric raised his brow as he looked quizzically at Marco. "If I were you, I'd run as far away from Sookie. Because that girl is gonna put the hurt on you, my friend."

Eric snorted before he shook his head derisively. "Yeah, right," he mumbled before he downed his scotch.

Marco made his way back to the sofa. He didn't see Eric crossed his fingers under his desk.

* * *

**E/S**

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay, Jase?" Sookie asked his brother for the nth time today as she slung the strap of her small gym bag over head.

"Sure, I'm sure," Jason reassured her again as he lounged slothful at the couch while reading the sports section in today's newspaper.

The fourth of July was especially difficult for the Stackhouse siblings. The date brought so many unpleasant memories that they started building a routine around that specific day. Ever since that loathsome phone call they received on July 4, 2002, Independence Day became Sucker Punch day for the siblings.

For the last three years, Jason's fourth of July habit consisted of sleeping in until late in the afternoon. Then as soon as the sun dipped in the horizon, Jason would go out with Hoyt or Alcide and start drinking the night away. He would not be home until the following day, when he was finally sober.

Sookie's routine was quite the opposite. She would wake up very early and start cleaning the house, inch by inch, until she was tired to the bone. So that by the evening, before the fireworks started, she would be snoring heavily under a pile of blankets, shutting the world away.

This time, though, there was no escaping the hollowness and dread. She was compelled to face this holiday that was permanently tarnished by that damn phone call. The short phone call that stripped her of all hope that her father would someday return home.

"How 'bout you? You sure you'll be fine workin' today?" Jason asked.

Of course she wouldn't be. But she was not about to drive her brother crazy worrying about her. It was his last night in Vegas and she knew he already made plans to go out with Calvin and Tray tonight.

She actually invited him to Fiordilatte's opening, but he begged off. He said he didn't have anything classy to wear and that after working three straight days at the restaurant, he was in dire need of a change of scenery.

Sookie, who was allowed to bring a plus one in the opening banquet, decided to invite Alcide instead. Because they didn't get a chance to spend some quality time together since he arrived in the city, Alcide excitedly accepted the invitation.

She got to Fiordilatte a little over 12 noon. As soon as she stepped inside the kitchen, she was bombarded with a dozen unfamiliar faces working frantically in different stations. Her eyes searched for a friendly face and she almost clapped her hands in joy when Terry and Holly pulled her by her wrists inside the employees' quarters.

"Who are all these people?" Sookie asked in a hushed tone.

Terry closed the door behind him as Holly sat Sookie at the small couch beside the lockers.

"They were sent by the mystery owner. I heard one of them tell Selah that Marco thought we were awfully undermanned so the new boss sent line cooks and waiters and porters to assist us," Holly whispered beside Sookie.

Sookie was relieved. But Holly and Terry still looked agitated. "That's good news, right? We don't need to bust our asses to pull off this shindig."

Terry and Holly swapped worried glances with Sookie. "That ain't what Selah thinks, though. She thinks the boss doesn't trust her and that these people are here to replace us," Terry replied. "You saw how Chef Alfonso undermined Selah's authority. No wonder she's pissed."

Sookie shook her head as she grabbed Holly's arm. "Don't think that way! Tara made it crystal clear that the new boss will not be able to terminate our contract without solid ground. We _are not_ bein' replaced. This is our turf, dammit! _They_ are the intruders."

Sookie's small pep talk seemed to appease Holly and Terry. After a short contemplative pause, her coworkers strapped the strings of their apron around their waists and marched outside with Sookie following behind.

Sookie went to the fridge to collect her precious oysters. Not a minute later, Selah and Marco made their appearance in the kitchen.

"Okay people, we have less than six hours to prep and cook before the guests arrive. You're all familiar with your stations. Chef Alfonso and I will go around and check on your progress. Because we can't have these many people in the kitchen once the service starts, the Fiordilatte employees are allowed to join the festivities while the _help_, Chef Alfonso graciously _lent_ us," Selah spat the last words out like bile in her mouth. "Will be assisting me and Chef Alfonso push the dishes out."

The Fiordilatte employees were in unison with their glee. Tara had informed them the previous day that the staff would be divided into two so they could also enjoy the party with the guests. But because of the cavalry the new owner sent, they now had the luxury to just lay back and have a ball together.

The time passed quickly in the bustling kitchen. Sookie eagerly accepted the assistance of two burly men with her oysters. They were done in under an hour, which gave Sookie a lot of time to help Holly, Terry and Alcee in their tasks. With still an hour to spare before they opened the doors of Fiordilatte, everything was ready. Selah and Marco had six experienced line cooks at their disposal.

After they received the green light from Marco to go and change for the event, the staff stormed out of the kitchen like ants sprayed with water.

The male staff quickly changed into their suits while the ladies waited for the men to clear out of the employees' quarters.

Sookie and Holly were out back when Marco Alfonso came up behind them.

"Ready for tonight, Sookie?" he asked Sookie, while blatantly ignoring Holly, who was smoking a few paces away.

Marco Alfonso had been extremely busy that he didn't get the chance to bother Sookie. The Southern Belle had silently wished tonight would be Marco-free, but she should have known that would not be a possibility.

"I'm always ready, chef," she replied curtly.

Marco's lips quirked upward as he looked Sookie up and down. "You're not going to wear that outside, are you?" he pointed at Sookie's loose jeans and fitted white blouse.

Sookie held back a groan as she flashed him a saccharine smile. "Of course, not, chef. I'll be wearing a burlap sack with big bold letters that say 'I don't give a shit,' embroidered front and back."

Marco guffawed at her sarcasm. "At least it was embroidered. That takes commitment. It would be a shame if the words were only written with black marker."

Sookie rolled her eyes at the incorrigible chef. If she didn't see the pompous bastard anymore, it would be too soon.

Holly lighted another cigarette as an excuse to keep her distance. She could hear Sookie sassing Marco Alfonso and she didn't like to get in the middle of it.

"Do you have a plus one, Sookie?" Marco asked out of the blue.

'_Is he hitting on me?'_ Sookie thought wildly.

After a pregnant pause Sookie replied with a smug grin. "As a matter of fact, chef, I do. So if you'll excuse me. I have to get ready for my date."

With that Sookie went inside after throwing a pointed glance at Holly, who quickly put out her cigarette with the heel of her shoe.

When Sookie and Holly went to the employees' quarters, only Jessica Hamby - the bubbly redhead who was among the wait staff - was left. Sookie took a quick shower in one of the two cubicles reserved for only the female employees. Then she put on her yellow sundress, her version of the Little Black Dress. It was a gift from her Gran and Jason for her 18th birthday. Since then she had only worn the dress five times to preserve its pristine appearance.

"Is that what you're wearing, Sook?" Jessica asked her as the redhead stared at her reflection at the full length mirror behind the door.

"Yep!" Sookie replied proudly. Then she saw Jessica giving her dress a withering look and she was suddenly made aware of her myriad insufficiencies.

Jessica, realizing her social gaffe, spun around and faced Sookie. "It's pretty, Sook. Really! It's just that I already saw the guests outside and if you wear that you'll stick out like a sore thumb."

If Jessica's intention was to soothe Sookie then she did an awful job. Because not only was Sookie feeling more self-conscious, she was now also terrified. She didn't want to stand out. She wanted to blend in. It was bad enough that she had to make herself comfortable while she dined with the rich and famous. The people she loathed with so much conviction.

Holly stepped outside the shower cubicle and joined Sookie and Jessica beside the lockers. She, like Jessica, was wearing a black dress that left very little to the imagination.

"What's wrong, Sookie?" Holly asked as she strapped on her heels.

"I think I'm gonna sit this one out," Sookie said in resignation. She would just ask Holly to look for Alcide and tell him she was held up in the kitchen and wouldn't be able to join him for dinner.

"No, Sook! You can't stay here. This is our night!" Jessica yelled. "Tell you what, you stay close to me and Holly and we'll find you a table back at the corner."

"What?!" asked Holly. "Why would you do that to her, Jess?"

"Because I look like shit! And those rich, snooty bitches will only look down on me and I can't have that!" Sookie cried.

"You don't look like shit," Holly argued. "Did you tell her that?" she asked Jessica sharply.

"I didn't!" Jessica yelped. "I only said she stand out in the crowd and Sook here doesn't want that. Ain't that right, Sook?"

Holly shot daggers at Jessica before she turned to Sookie. "You look fine, sweetie."

"Yeah, Sook. You'll be fine," Jessica added. "Besides, if you stay here then how are you gonna flirt with the wolfish version of McSteamy outside?"

"Who?" Sookie and Holly asked in unison.

"I think his name's Alcide. He said he's your plus one. I ushered him in myself," Jessica said.

"So you _do_ have a date!" Holly teased as she squeezed Sookie's waist naughtily.

"Come on, sweetie. Let's get you glammed up so I can check out this wolf of yours," Holly said as she pulled Sookie down at the couch.

Holly and Jessica weaved their magic on Sookie. Holly teased and fluffed her hair so it would fall loosely over her shoulders, while Jessica put some colors on her eyelids and cheeks that made her big brown eyes smoky and her cheeks rosier. She declined the blood-red lipstick Jessica was going to paint on her lips and decided to go with her old reliable pink lip gloss.

After fifteen minutes of fussing, Sookie was allowed to look in the mirror. She had to admit she did look presentable. Fresh and glowing. She felt a surge of pride coursed through her as she examined her overall appearance at the full length mirror. She felt confident enough to rub elbows with the elites.

Lastly, she put on her two-inch wedge white sandals she used to wear to church. Her go-to footwear for special occasions, when her trusted Chuck Taylor sneakers just wouldn't do.

It was almost 7.30pm and dinner was going to be served in half an hour. Jessica led the way as they tried to sneak out of the employees' quarters. They would have to pass the kitchen to get to the dining hall and they wanted to evade Selah's contemptuous look.

Selah, because she was the head chef, was not permitted to leave the kitchen until the last dish was served. And she detested that arrangement, which only made her more insufferable than usual.

Sookie was trailing behind Jessica and Holly when she felt a hand grab her elbow. She whirled around and found Marco Alfonso leering at her.

"This doesn't look like a burlap sack," he said as his eyes roamed her full form.

"Changed my mind," Sookie snapped as she looked back at Jessica and Holly who didn't notice she wasn't following them anymore and had already exited the kitchen.

"Glad you did. My friend will be very pleased," Marco said approvingly. "Let me just tell you, you _mia bella_ is like sunshine on a cold winter's day." He touched his lips with his fingers before he made a loud smack with his mouth, like someone who was complimenting a delicious meal.

"So you're a poet, too? You really are talented, chef," she replied acerbically. "Can I please go now? I'm starvin'."

Marco gave her another once over before he let her go.

Sookie dashed out of the kitchen, while dodging the curious looks from the people inside the kitchen.

* * *

**E/S**

As soon as Eric stepped out of his silver BMW and handed the keys to the valet service, he was instantly swarmed with different kinds of individuals. Some were old acquaintances while some wanted to make his acquaintance. He kept his face stoic as he greeted his old friends and associates who were lounging at the reception area. He ignored the ones who were trying to introduce themselves.

He was running out of patience. He had waited so long to see _her _and these vapid people were in his way.

From the moment he woke up earlier, he had been watching the clock as time seemed to move at slow motion. He had kept himself occupied with tedious paperwork. He even went down at the casino and watched the high-limit poker games.

But after half an hour of observing varying deals and strategies, he decided he couldn't stay any longer. It only reminded him so much of _her_.

He wanted to go Fiordilatte earlier, before it even opened but Marco and Pam were in agreement that he shouldn't. Pam reiterated that Sophie Anne was still in the city and that his lack of control when it came to _her_ could be viewed as a weakness.

Marco, on the other hand, appealed to Eric's inflated ego. He stressed that going to Fiordilatte earlier than planned would only spoil the surprise and would give _her_ the upper hand. He would look needy and desperate.

He finally yielded to them and waited with growing impatience for the moment he could finally see _her_.

Eric waded through the crowd and finally reached the dining hall, which was also brimming with insipid men and women in designer gowns and suits, who were consumed swapping stories about their unfulfilling lives.

As his eyes processed the place, Eric suddenly remembered why he stayed away from gatherings such as this. There was nothing stimulating with this certain group of people.

Then, as though someone had flipped a switch, he saw _her_.

In the sea of black, red and silver, there _she_ was in a mesmerizing yellow dress, completely oblivious of the power she had over him.

'_I'm screwed.' _

* * *

**A/N: I don't own TB and SVM. **

**It got away from me again. Damn!**

**I'm sorry this chapter is sooo long. I don't know where to break it. Hopefully, it won't bore you to death. **

**As always, a BIG thank you to all you guys who took the time to read it and send me feedback. THANK YOU!**

**I'll try to finish the next chapter and hopefully, I'll be able to post it during the weekend. Love, love, love, my sweets!**


	13. Chapter 13

Sookie was grateful that the kitchen door was located at the farthest and most secluded corner in the dining room otherwise she would have to push her way through the throng of sickeningly-beautiful and sophisticatedly-dressed people.

She was glad she wasn't wearing those high and pointed stilettos or she would trip over her own feet for sure. She smoothed out imagined wrinkles in the lower half of her dress before she started walking toward Holly, who was at one of the five tables beside the new podium, where a grand piano was the centerpiece.

"Where've you been? I thought you were behind us?" Holly asked Sookie as soon as she reached the table where Terry Bellefleur was seated.

"Marco Alfonso," Sookie retorted while rolling her eyes.

An impish glint crossed Holly's eyes before she gave Sookie a light smack on her bare shoulder. "I think someone has crush on you, Sook."

Sookie let out an unladylike huff. "Please. That guy is not capable of liking anything but himself. Oh, oh, and his three precious stars."

"Believe me, Sookie. Marco Alfonso is not someone to be taken lightly. If I were you, I'd cling on to him like a wet towel to a nail. If you're seriously considering a future in the food biz, Marco Alfonso is your guy. He can teach you a thing or two in the kitchen or maybe even outside the kitchen, if you catch my drift?" Holly's perfectly groomed eyebrow flicked upward as she nudged Sookie at the rib.

"Ew! I'd rather scrub prison toilets for the rest of my life than work with that cocky prick!" Sookie said in repulsion.

"Think about it, Sookie. Where can you find a hot guy who's also stinkin' rich _and _knows how to cook their way into a girl's underpants?" Holly kept on.

"Drop it, Hol, I'm not interested in Marco Alfonso! I'm not interested in men who treat women like property," Sookie snapped in a hushed tone. "Actually, I'm not interested in any guy. Period. I'm not plannin' on getting married anyway. So what's the point?"

"Oh, really?" Holly asked mockingly before she grabbed Sookie by her shoulders and whisked her body around so she could see the man walking toward them. "Then what are you planning to do with that hubba hubba hunk?"

Sookie felt her body temperature shoot up as she stared at Alcide, who was looking dapper in a v-neck gray t-shirt that hugged his toned abs, black trousers, dark brown boots, finished with a black corduroy jacket. His eyes lit up when he met Sookie's gaze as he continued on his path toward her with two champagne flutes in his hand.

"You made it!" Sookie said eagerly as she greeted Alcide, who gave her one of the drinks he was holding.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Alcide replied in a gruff voice. Holly let out a small, but very girlish squeal beside Sookie.

Alcide looked curiously at Holly and the latter took it as an opportunity to introduce herself since Sookie was too busy glaring at her to do so.

"The name's Holly," said the blonde line cook as she extended her hand to Alcide.

"Alcide. Alcide Herveaux," he said as he took Holly's hand and gave it a firm shake. "I'm an old friend of Sookie and her brother back in Louisiana."

"I see," Holly said as her eyes devoured Alcide's full form.

Sookie wanted to slap some sense into Holly, who was acting like a horny teenager in front of Alcide. Fortunately, she didn't have to because Jessica chose that exact moment to barge into their small circle, in her usual bouncy and cheeky manner.

"You will not _believe _who I just saw walk in," Jessica said in an excited whisper as she pulled Holly and Sookie in a huddle, leaving Alcide standing awkwardly with his champagne. Luckily, Terry Bellefleur came and asked him to join him at their table.

"Bet you ten bucks it's nobody compared to the one I spotted by the bar," Holly scoffed at Jessica before she blurted, "Stan fucking Davis and, girl, don't get me started on his date."

Jessica bit her lower lip to stop herself from grinning from ear to ear as she put one hand on her waist while the other was stretched toward Holly palm out. "Pay up, Hollandaise. Because your Stan Davis doesn't hold a torch against my guy."

"Wait, who's Stan Davis?" Sookie asked Holly, suddenly at a loss to the name-dropping game her friends were playing.

Holly and Jessica paid Sookie no mind. "Oh, yeah? Even if I tell you that he came in with Sophie-Anne Leclerq, the AC/DC heiress?" Holly interjected smugly.

"The only way they can top my guy is if she, Stan Davis and Matt Goss have a three way at the stage," Jessica replied dryly.

"Matt Goss is here?!" Sookie shrieked as she tried to get her friends' attention. Holly and Jessica ignored Sookie's query as they kept on with their eye-spy duel.

Sookie had no idea who Stan Davis and Sophie-Anne Leclerq were. They could be the king and queen of England and she still wouldn't care.

Matt Goss, on the other hand, was someone Sookie was very fond of.

Lafayette owned a copy of Matt Goss's first album and he would play it over and over in the grill every Wednesday night - ladies' night - and she and the other waitresses, along with the regulars, would dance unabashedly to his music.

Sookie couldn't wait to see Matt Goss in person. Unfortunately she didn't have that much courage to go wandering around in the room full of VIPs by herself without looking like a teenage fan girl. She wanted Jessica to reveal her card to Holly so she could ask the latter to accompany her to where Matt Goss was sitting.

"C'mon, Jess. 'nuff with the teasing and tell us who you saw," Sookie chimed in.

"Are you ready for this?" Jessica asked with eagerness before she paused to wait for the right response from her peers. Sookie and Holly looked at Jessica with a mix of impatience and curiosity.

"Eric hotness Northman!"

'_No!' _Sookie screamed in her head.

As though he took that as his cue, Eric Northman emerged behind Sookie and spoke up in a low, sultry voice that made Sookie's heart drop to her stomach.

"Did someone call my name?" Eric Northman asked mischievously, startling all three ladies.

Sookie jerked upward as she felt the color draining from her face. Jessica and Holly's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as they gasped at the Viking's sudden appearance.

"Mr. Northman!" Jessica yelped, her face matching her red hair. "Would you like me to show you to your seat, sir?"

Holly started fiddling with the tips of her blonde hair as she shifted nervously in her feet while looking back and forth at Jessica and the Viking.

Sookie looked down at her feet as she asked for lightning to strike her down, better yet, strike _him _down so she wouldn't have to turn around and face him anymore.

Eric flicked his hand dismissively at Jessica. "It's fine. I can manage. I was only curious as to what you ladies were gabbing about," Eric replied as he fixed his gaze on Sookie, whose back was still on him.

He couldn't help but admire the smooth, creamy skin on her back in the small space where her hair cascaded and her dress started. Or the glowing tan on her shoulders all the way down to her arms. He wanted so much to take a small whiff of her hair that he was certain would smell as refreshing as she was. Like a newborn's head after an afternoon nap.

But with her friends still gawking shamelessly at him, he knew he wouldn't be able to without looking like a creep.

"We were just talking about how big of a deal it was that you could join us tonight, sir," Jessica stuttered, while Holly bobbed her head frantically in agreement.

"Oh? Miss Stackhouse?" Eric directed his question at Sookie, who was still refusing to acknowledge his presence. Holly shoved Sookie's hand as she prodded Sookie to turn around and face their guest.

Sookie threw a dirty look at Holly then at Jessica before she plastered a smile as unnaturally sweet as a packet of Splenda.

"Mr. Northman!" she greeted while batting her thick eyelashes at him. "Why, it was truly an honor that you could grace us with your presence tonight."

Eric raised an eyebrow at her, a supercilious smile dancing on his lips. "Is it really? An _honor_?"

Jessica and Holly took that opportunity to slip silently away from Sookie and Eric.

Sookie glowered at Holly for leaving her with Eric Northman but the line cook was more afraid of the Viking than Sookie.

As soon as her friends were out of earshot, Sookie's smile disappeared and replaced it with a murderous glare. "Actually, no. If you really must know, I was more _shocked_ than honored," Sookie riposted. "How _ever _did you find the time to attend an event like this? With all those _urgent _kinds of _business _that you simply couldn't get away from."

It took Eric a few seconds before her innuendo sank in. A puckish grin crept slowly across his handsome face as he stared at her with his intense blue eyes. "I realize I haven't apologized to you personally for the other day. But I assure you if it weren't really exigent -"

"I bet it was," Sookie cut him off. She didn't need to hear whatever lie he would throw at her.

Eric was about to continue with his explanation but was rudely interrupted by Alcide's sudden arrival.

Alcide cleared his throat loudly as he tried to draw Sookie's attention from the Viking. Eric narrowed his eyes at the hulking man beside them as though telling him to back the fuck off. But Alcide would have none of it as he spoke to Sookie.

"Sorry to interrupt but I think they're about to serve the food, cher," Alcide said.

'_Cher? What is this 1988?' _Eric thought in irritation. '_And __who the fuck is this asshole?'_

Sookie turned to Alcide but it was Eric who spoke first.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Eric asked in a condescending tone.

Alcide sized Eric Northman up, which was not easy considering they were almost the same height and Eric's posture was oozing with cool confidence.

"Alcide," he replied curtly.

"Do you need a tissue with that?" Eric deadpanned.

Alcide knotted his brows in confusion before he asked, "what?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought that was a sneeze," Eric jeered.

Alcide suppressed a growl as he glared at the Viking. Sookie, sensing the tension in the air, jammed herself between Eric and Alcide as she made the proper introduction.

"Mr. Northman, I'd like you to meet my friend, Alcide Herveaux. Alcide, this is Mr. Eric Northman."

The two men didn't utter any word of cognizance as they kept staring each other down.

Opportunely, Pamela Ravenscroft, who looked stunning in her red one-shoulder satin cocktail dress, came up to Eric.

Pam flashed Sookie a tight smile before her eyes shifted to Alcide. She moved closer to Eric as she whispered close to his ear. "The frost bitch is here. Stan brought her. Said she asked for an invite and Stan couldn't keep saying no."

Eric turned his back on Sookie before he muttered under his breath. "Spineless fuck!"

"It gets worse," Pam hushed again. "Stan's at our table and so is the bitch."

"What?" Eric hissed.

Pam raised her hands defensively. "You asked me to put him on our table because when I sent the invites you were still courting him for the Regent. I didn't get the chance to change the seating arrangements. And how the fuck should I know, he'd bring her," Pam defended herself in a low murmur.

Eric cursed one more time as he cast a sidelong glance at _her_.

Eric Northman was not a collector. He grew tired of things way too fast to keep them. But when he did find something worth his time, he would never let it go. He would keep it somewhere close and safe.

He didn't know if _she _was special enough, but by god, he wanted to keep _her _close. At least for the time being. And he didn't like that motherfucker touching her with his hairy hands.

Eric was actually going to ask Pam to move things around so he could sit beside _her_. But with Sophie- Anne skulking with her surgically-enhanced nose, that was no longer a possibility.

The Viking didn't know who he wanted to kick in the balls more: Stan Davis or Alcide Herveaux. He decided he detested the latter a lot more.

Eric turned around and returned his gaze on Sookie who was studying him and Pam with her constantly suspicious eyes.

"I'll see you later, Miss Stackhouse." he said ignoring Alcide, who was shooting daggers his way.

Eric, with heavy feet and a heavier heart, made his way to their table which was located in the middle of the room beside the large space specially designed as a dance floor.

Tara, dressed in a silver strapless gown, with her husband JV, who was snappy in his black and white suit, met Eric before he reached his table.

"Mr. Northman, can we make the announcement before we start serving dinner?" Tara asked courteously.

Eric answered Tara with a stiff nod before took his seat across Sophie-Anne, who was obviously enjoying his discomfiture.

All the guests were settled in their corresponding tables. The dining hall was dimmed, with only the enormous chandelier providing most of the lighting. Every table was decorated with small, stylish lamps, accentuating the intimate and cozy ambiance of the restaurant.

Tara went up the stage and asked the pianist to halt as she prepared for the big reveal. All eyes were trained on Tara. All except for Eric, who couldn't keep his eyes off _her _for a long period of time.

As soon as Eric left their side, Sookie and Alcide parked themselves at their table along with Terry, Holly and Jessica. Terry had taken it upon himself to fill their wine glasses with vintage Malbec, the sommelier had given them to accompany the entrée.

"Eric Northman," Alcide murmured mostly to himself as though he was trying to piece together a puzzle. Then the light bulb moment came and he confronted Sookie, who was fixating on the cloth napkin on her lap. "Sook! Is that the same Eric Northman you and Jason played poker with?"

Alcide's epiphany made Sookie wince. She was actually relieved when Alcide hadn't made the connection when she introduced him to Eric Northman. But it seemed it was only a matter of time before he could put two and two together.

Sookie bit her lip as she stared at Alcide sheepishly. "Yep. That's him."

Tara's announcement was a welcome diversion as her voice blared out of the microphone. She started her announcement by expressing her gratitude to the distinguished guests and all the loyal staff before she moved on to the passing of the torch to the capable hands of the new owner, whose identity was still concealed from the employees. The last comment drew nervous laughter from the staff and the guests alike.

Alcide drew Sookie's attention back to him. "What is Miss Ravenscroft's affiliation to Eric Northman, Sook?"

Sookie furrowed her brows as she contemplated Alcide's question. "How do you know Pam Ravenscroft?"

"Miss Ravenscroft's your new boss, Sook. She's the one who hired us to renovate this place," Alcide replied before he took a sip of his red wine. He was also sworn into secrecy by JV DuRone, but since Tara was already gearing up to divulge the owner's identity, Alcide thought it didn't matter anymore if he told Sookie.

Sookie's spider sense was buzzing at the back of her head. Something was amiss with Alcide's former statement. If only she could put her finger on it quickly. But she knew it had something to do with the egotistical Viking.

Sookie's eyes swept the room as she searched for Eric Northman. It wasn't difficult to pick him out from a room full of people even though they all dress like him. His towering height was a dead giveaway as she zeroed in on his neatly coiffed dark blonde hair and his charcoal gray suit, paired with a black silk shirt.

Pam was sitting beside him along with a petite redhead, Sookie couldn't see quite clearly, and a big Latino looking guy in an all-black suit.

Out of nowhere, Bill Compton's voice resonated in her head: **'**_She's Eric's right-hand. The one doing all his dirty work for him.'_

A cold dread swept over Sookie's spine as she turned her gaze to Eric Northman, who was also staring intently back at her. Her fingers unwittingly grasped the glass in front of her. Her throat suddenly felt parched. She lifted her glass to her lips to take a swig of the liquid courage when the answer hit her like a ton of bricks.

'_It's not Pam. It's Eric Northman!' _Sookie thought in alarm.

Then, to confirm Sookie's worst nightmare, Tara's shrill voice boomed again. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great privilege to present to you Fiordilatte's new chieftain, Eric Northman."

The wine shot up Sookie's nose in abject horror. Her eyes watered as she coughed up the alcohol that stung her nostrils. Alcide rushed to her aid as he took the glass from her after some of the crimson wine spattered on her dress.

Sookie yanked the white table napkin from her lap and tried to cover her face that she was sure was burning red with shame while Alcide rubbed her back to soothe her.

A hush fell in the room as all eyes focused on Eric Northman when he stood up from his table and raised his glass to the diners.

Everyone copied his movement as the guests rose from their chairs including Sookie, whose frantic coughing had gradually ceased, followed by Alcide.

"Thank you," Eric started. "I will not bore you with a long speech. I know you're all famished. And I don't want to start my reign by starving my customers." Everyone laughed at his remark with synchronicity as though someone held up a cue card that said: Laugh, bitches.

Eric continued when the laughter had ceased. "So in keeping with the Italian theme, I'd like to start this evening with an old Italian saying: _A tavola non si invecchia,_ (At the table with good friends and family you do not become old.)" Eric said with his flawless Italian accent. "Let's celebrate our independence with good food, good wine and good friends. _Cin Cin!_(cheers!)"

The guests parroted him as they clinked their crystal glasses together.

Before everybody could return to their places, Sookie excused herself from her companions as she dashed to the comfort room behind the stage with her head bowed low.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric took a small sip of his wine before he put it back at the table. As soon as the guests were settled back down, the maitre'd was beside their table serving the first course of sage butter and spinach ravioli sprinkled with white truffle shavings.

Pam, Stan and Sophie-Anne started digging into their plates, while the Viking watched the wine swirl inside the glass. He was too livid to take a bite.

He had discerned the exact moment _she _had figured everything out. He took pleasure locking gazes with _her _from across the room when the revelation struck _her _like a bolt of lightning. What he didn't enjoy was the hairball Alcide who kept laying his furry hand on _her _like a disgusting purring cat.

All his years of faking conviviality had paid off as he managed to make his opening address with enough flair while tamping down his flaring temper.

When the sommelier came back to their table to fill their glasses, Eric asked for a glass of club soda that he would pick up from the bar himself. His strange request earned him curious looks from his company, but he was too occupied to care.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie wiped the front of her dress furiously that was tainted with red wine which she accidentally sprayed on her chest when she started convulsing earlier.

She stared at her image in the mirror and noticed her cheeks were still ruddied with rouge.

'_Eric Northman's my boss!' _she thought in horror. **'**_My freakin' boss! What the hell am I supposed to do now?'_

She grabbed another wet towelette on top of the marble sink as she dabbed her face with the warm cloth.

'_He's gonna make my life a livin' hell,'_she thought miserably. '_I have to quit my job!'_

She threw the towelette inside the bin by the corner before she gripped the cold edge of the sink. She wanted to break something - _anything_.

She wanted to punch Bill Compton in the mouth for dragging her to the North. She wanted to strangle Eric Northman with his tie for relentlessly taunting her. But most of all, she wanted to yank all the hair off her head for not learning anything from her father's stupid mistakes.

'_You should have known better, Sookie! Nothin' good comes out of gambling. Nothing!' _she chastised herself inwardly. **'**_Now, I have to quit my job and go back to Bon Temps because I can't stay away from those damn tables!'_

Sookie was glad the powder room was empty. She was actually counting on it because she knew dinner service was already in full swing.

She snatched another moist towel to dab on her chest when the door knob clicked signaling the entrance of another guest. She grimaced in annoyance, fully intent to ignore whoever it was that she was sure would look down her nose at Sookie's disgruntled appearance.

The door swung open carefully before it closed just as gently.

"You shouldn't rub it like that," Eric Northman's smoldering voice startled Sookie. She pivoted toward the door as she dropped the towel in the porcelain sink. "Here, dab it on the stain." Eric moved forward as he thrust a glass of club soda in her hand.

"What the hell! Can't you read? This is the ladies' room!" Sookie yelled, aghast at the trespasser.

"So?" Eric asked coolly as he leaned at the edge of the sink.

"Oh, I get it. Now that you own the place, you think you can just go wherever the hell you want," Sookie snapped, her face flustered with pent up anger. Then she slapped her forehead in mock surprise. "Oh, silly me! I forgot! I haven't congratulated you yet, _your grace_. Or would like me to curtsy as well, _my liege_?"

Eric clenched his jaw in annoyance at her caustic repartee.

"The fuck is your problem?" he snarled. He was already seething when he found out she had a _date_. Her reaction when she discovered he bought the place also aggravated his foul mood.

And _now_, when he was only trying to do something nice for her, she would attack him with her snarky riposte.

"You!" she spat. She didn't need to be polite anymore because they had no more audience to appease. "Why are you so hell-bent on making me look like a fool? What's your endgame here, Mr. Northman? Did you lose a bet or somethin'? Or is this some kind of a dare you and your billionaire buddies have where they challenge you to make the hick look like a sniveling idiot?"

Eric's hard stare softened as he realized what she thought of him. Did she really think he was playing her? Well, maybe at first, but now he wasn't so certain anymore.

If she had any idea the lengths he went through just to earn her favor, she would never doubt his motives again. Then he got to thinking, what indeed was his endgame?

He wanted to fuck her, sure. But he was certain that was not the only reason. He wanted _more_.

'_Fuck! Keep it together, Northman!'_he thought as he tried to grasp the reason behind all the chasing, the teasing and the scheming.

It all boiled down to her in the end, and his overwhelming desire to possess her and give her everything she was deprived of.

He took a deep breath as he spoke again. "I didn't - " he started but he was cut off when Sookie put a finger on her lips to shush him.

Eric looked at her in confusion and Sookie pointed her finger toward the door. They could both hear the sound of two pairs of feet shuffling near the door. Sookie could tell one of them was female because of the unmistakable noise of spiked heels on hardwood.

The next thing they heard was the distinct clack of the doorknob being turned. Sookie, in her alarm, acted on reflex as she pulled Eric inside one of the stalls before she pushed the door shut just as the entry way of the comfort room flew open.

To say that Eric was stunned at the sudden turn of events would be a colossal understatement. Not a minute ago she was launching a tapestry of insults his way, now they were crammed in a tight space, with nothing but an inch of space separating their bodies.

Sookie pressed her ear at the door as she tried to decipher who the other occupants were. She didn't notice Eric, who couldn't keep the goofy smile off his face, as he tried to keep the erection that was pulsing against the thin fabric of his trousers from making its demanding presence felt.

He bent his head low as he scented her hair very discreetly. It was better than he imagined. She smelled of fresh baked bread and lavender. Truly divine.

Eric bent his head lower as he tried to whisper something in her ear but Sookie caught up to his plan and clamped a hand over his mouth. She pushed the side of her head against the door again as she continued to eavesdrop. Unaware of the effect she had on the Viking.

It took all of Eric's self-control not to dart his tongue out and lick her palm which smelled like peppermint and dahlia. Like the first day of spring.

"Can you imagine the nerve of Marco Alfonso?" Selah's agitated voice rang inside the room as she - surprise, surprise- complained anew to her companion. "He asked me to get out of my kitchen in the middle of dinner service, Tara! _Me_! In my fuckin' kitchen!"

'_Selah and Tara! Oh, great!' _Sookie thought acerbically. All the more reason for her to hide inside. She could not even begin to imagine what her executive chef and former employer would think if they found out she were having a rendezvous with the new boss at the ladies' room.

"Suck it up, Selah. It's only for tonight. Tomorrow he'll go back to LA where his loyal minions are waiting for him to get whipped," Tara said as she tried to assuage Selah's tantrum.

Selah harrumphed as she turned on the tap. "Speaking of whipped, you should have heard him compliment Sookie earlier. _Mia bella_, you look like sunshine on a winter day. Gimme a break! She looks like an egg yolk! And if I weren't too busy checking on dessert, I would have asked them both to go and get a room. It's obvious Marco Alfonso likes her for reasons that are beyond my comprehension."

Sookie felt her whole face heating up. From embarrassment or rage, she didn't know. Her eyes involuntarily fell on her dress, which apparently made her look like something that came out of a chicken's ass.

Eric clenched his jaw at Selah's words. If he weren't trying to protect _her_, he would have stormed out of his hiding spot and put that hussy in her right place. He wanted to assure her that she did look like sunshine in her dress and that she should not put stock in anything that came out of Selah's mouth. Eric even cursed his Italian friend for coming up with something so appropriate to describe _her_.

"You're missing the big picture here, Selah," Tara said in an exasperated tone. "Marco Alfonso is not the one you should be concerned about."

There was a short pause before, Selah's retort came out. "Yeah, you really blindsided us there, Tara. Eric Northman?! Seriously? What does that diddlyshit want with Fiordilatte anyway?" Selah grumbled.

Now, it was Sookie's turn to look at Eric upon hearing his name getting sullied by Selah Pumphrey. She was expecting to find him fuming mad, ready to break down the door to humiliate the chef de cuisine.

But, to Sookie's astonishment, he was anything but furious. Far from it actually. There was even a soft playful glint in his eyes that made him look like small boy on Christmas day as he fixed his gaze at her.

Sookie just realized what the Viking found so delightful. They were both being bad mouthed by Selah, and she had no freaking idea they were only a few paces from her. She bit her lip to stop the smile that was trying to grace her face.

She also became aware of her hand still pressed on his lips. Sookie quickly took it off before she directed her attention back at the door. She didn't really need to shove her cheek on the wood anymore since Selah's ranting was loud enough for all of them to hear.

However, she was starting to feel the awkwardness of their position and she was certain her face was turning deep vermillion the longer she was trapped with Eric Northman. She could feel her pulse racing and her breath getting ragged. She moistened her lips with her tongue as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

Little did she know that Eric Northman was keeping track of her every movement and that she unconsciously broadcast her uncontrollable emotions to her companion.

'_I'm a son of a bitch!' _Eric mused in sheer euphoria. He knew those moves. He had seen them once before. Those were the telltales of her growing nervousness when she was excited. And Eric had never been so ecstatic to see someone fidget beside him more.

The Viking had never been trapped in a toilet cubicle in his entire life. Even in his horniest moment, he was very vocal with his aversion to lavatories. It didn't matter how hot and desirable his partner was, when she started hinting they fornicate in the restroom he would drop her sooner than she could flush.

This time, however, was different. Because tried as he might he couldn't will his erection away that was screaming at him to take her right then and there. He pinched his eyes shut to tame his raging libido. He didn't want to give her any more reason to despise him.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed her shift her weight as subtly as possible. _'She's getting tired.'_

He stretched out his arm and pushed it against the opposite wall so she could use his arm as a brace to rest her head on.

Sookie sensed what Eric was trying to do, and in spite of herself she felt a spike of warmth toward the cocky bastard. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She knew it was one of his tricks to make him seem more human. But she was not about to fall for it.

Five more minutes had passed and she could no longer feel the heels of feet. Getting squeezed in a tight space with someone as large as Eric Northman all the while trying so hard to not make any contact with him was difficult at best and horrible at worst.

She kept on listening in on the other occupants. Selah seemed relentless spewing her hateful drivel and Tara was making no move to leave either. They could be trapped in there for hours, for all Sookie knew.

So, ignoring the protestations of her ginormous pride, she finally yielded and leaned her head on Eric's outstretched arm. It was a good thing she hauled the Viking in the last stall or she would have to ask Eric Northman to sit on top of a toilet bowl to keep up with their ruse, too.

She kept her eyes locked on his chest to avoid looking at his face. She didn't want to see the satisfied smirk that she was sure he was wearing. With their close proximity she couldn't resist but inhale his inherently good scent.

Eric was starting to lose sensation in his arm because he was pushing against the marble wall for what seemed like 20 minutes or more. But he would rather lose his arm than ask her to move.

Then after a couple more minutes, the two women started to make their departure, much to Eric's dismay.

Sookie waited for the distinct click of the door as it was being closed shut before she lifted her head from Eric's arm. She looked up at him and gave his arm light taps to loosen the stiff muscles before she mouthed a sincere "thank you."

For a second there, Sookie thought he would lean in to close their gap. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as her eyes got lost in the depths of his blue orbs. She almost leaned in to him if she hadn't caught herself.

'_Sonofabitch! Am I trying to kiss Eric Northman?!'_ Sookie thought in awe. She almost knocked herself in the head for entertaining such thoughts.

Eric took a second longer to catch up with her. Unfortunately, before he could make his move, she already looked away.

The feeling disappeared as quickly as it came.

Sookie pressed her ear back to door again before she opened it. Because the door would only close from the inside, she had to back away to make room for it to swing. As she stepped back, she accidentally pressed against the Viking.

Eric wasn't anticipating her retreat that it made him lose his balance. He grabbed on to her shoulder to keep from falling ass-flat in the toilet bowl cover. Sookie yelped when Eric fastened his huge hands on her.

It was mortifying enough to hold on to a girl, but to let her _feel _his _excitement _through his pants was too much for the Viking. As soon as he steadied his footing, he let go of Sookie and squeezed his way out of the cubicle. He moved a few paces from her in such a speed that made her feel like a leper.

Sookie bit the inside of her cheek to keep her features stoic. She made a grand gesture of wiping invisible dirt off her skirt so she would have an excuse to look down and compose herself. After a few pregnant seconds, she sauntered out of the stall, her face devoid of any emotion.

"I will go out first. Wait for my knock when the coast is clear before you exit, okay?" Sookie said in a clinical tone.

Eric, who had recovered from the humiliating scene, sniggered at Sookie, while straightening the collar of his jacket.

"Miss Stackhouse, why, you never cease to amaze me. You sound as if this isn't your first powder-room hookup," Eric teased, all the while wishing she would contradict him.

Sookie was flabbergasted with his insinuation. Was that what he was thinking she was doing earlier before he bolted and acted all virginal? That she was copping a feel?

She tried to calm her unruly emotions down as she kept her composure intact. She looked him up and down before she flashed him an all-knowing smirk. "A lady never tells." She winked at him before she turned on her heels and marched toward the door.

Sookie carefully pried the door open before she slipped out. She was so out of whack that she didn't notice Alcide lounging right outside the door until after she slammed her forehead on his rock hard chest.

"Alcide! Damn! What are you doing here?" Sookie yelled, hoping Eric would hear her and stay out of sight.

"Is everythin' okay, cher? You've been there for over half an hour. You already missed the first meal," Alcide asked, concern etched on his face.

Sookie clasped her soft arm with Alcide's as she propelled him toward the dining hall. "Oh, geez, sorry. Of course, I'm okay. It's this damn stain! It just won't come off!" she said as she tried to cover her chest with her free hand.

Alcide knew where she had spilled her wine. That was why he was trying his darndest not to look at it. They were almost out of the narrow hallway approaching the back of the stage when the restroom door slammed open. Alcide, jolted by the sound, looked behind and was horrified when he saw Eric Northman sprinting out, looking disheveled with slightly teased hair, loosened tie and sloppily draped blazer.

Eric, who was running his fingers through his hair, stopped on his tracks when he reached Sookie and Alcide. He stared at the couple with his mouth agape, trying to fake consternation.

Alcide glared at Eric then at Sookie, completely lost for words.

'_How do you like me now, asshole?' _Eric thought in amusement as he reveled in Alcide's defeated eyes. It was a cheap shot, he knew, but he couldn't resist the temptation to wipe that smug look on the bastard's face.

Eric was opportunistic and it was too good of a chance to pass up. He was certain _she_ would make him pay for this stunt dearly, so he might as well make the most of it. He reached for his tie and tightened it around his neck before he smoothed the lapels of his charcoal blazer. He tried to look abashed and apologetic at the same time as he threw a devious glance at Sookie and then at Alcide.

"Miss Stackhouse," Eric said a bit too shyly at her before he turned to Alcide with a terse nod. He bowed his head as he sidestepped the stunned pair at the hallway.

* * *

Eric made it back to his table, preening like a fucking peacock.

Stan and Sophie-Anne were cackling over something he had no desire of knowing, while Pam shot him an irritated look.

"Eric! Here, we thought you've abandoned us! Where've you been?" Stan asked cordially.

Eric raised his glass of wine to his lips and let the liquid linger in his tongue before he swallowed it. His lips puckered up as he lifted his eyebrow that perfectly matched his wily smirk.

"Oh, I just snuck in a bite," the Viking replied lazily.

"That's good because you just missed the first course. And it was heavenly," Stan commented with fervor.

'_No, my friend. _Your _meal was pedestrian. Mine was heavenly,' _Eric thought with a sigh.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters. **

**Like the three-course dinner, the night will be served in three parts. Sorry if this took a wee bit longer than promised. I kept shuffling the scenes before I finally came up with the one I'm happy with. Hopefully, it didn't disappoint. I swear the night will be filled with E/S interaction. A tad angsty mixed with a little fluff and plot. **

**THANK YOU all for the overwhelming response. To those who have taken the time to read and review and alerted this fic, THANK YOU!**

**Also a big shout out to Sadieswirl, who took the time to check my tensing, spelling and grammar. All the other mistakes are mine. **

**To MyVikingBoyfriend, I'm truly sorry that I made Jason and Sookie despise your birthday. Eric will love that date, though. I promise!**

**Love, love, love, my doves!**


	14. Chapter 14

"It's not what it looked like," Sookie said with resignation as she tried to hold Alcide's accusing stare.

'_Damn you Eric Northman! Damn you to hell!'_ she thought dismally as she watched the back of the Viking's head disappear from the corridor.

"Did he force himself on you?" Alcide asked in a low guttural voice. His fists clenched on his sides.

"No!" she replied quickly. Sookie tried to rehash what happened in the restroom in her head. What she said was the truth. Eric Northman didn't harass her. Well, not physically. He was actually trying to be helpful. Although his way was unconventional and downright unnerving, he _was_ trying to help.

Come to think of it, it was _her_ who pulled him inside the stall and rammed her palm on his lips. Her mind wandered back to that fleeting moment when she actually contemplated kissing him. _'Goddamit! What's wrong with me?'_

"Then what was he doing in the restroom with you?" Alcide's doubtful voice pulled her out of her musings.

"He was…" Sookie tried to think of the right words to explain what transpired in the powder room. Once again, she cursed Eric Northman for making her feel like a babbling idiot. "He came in to check on me," she finally said.

That was the truth. Or so she assumed.

"And nothing happened?" Alcide kept prodding.

Sookie was getting aggravated with Alcide's badgering. They weren't a couple. She didn't owe him any explanation. It wasn't like she cheated on him with Eric Northman.

With her eyebrows drawn she returned Alcide's reproachful glare with an icy stare. "Nothing happened. He's messing with your head, that's what he does. He messes with people's heads and you're an idiot for letting him."

Alcide was taken aback by Sookie's bluntness. He took a moment to collect himself before he spoke again. This time he was no longer reproving. "I'm sorry, Sook. But you can't blame me for thinking the worst. One look at that guy and you can tell he's trouble. I just don't want you to get tangled with someone like him. You're way too -" he stopped to find the right word to describe she was to him. "- special to be with someone as corrupt as him."

Although Sookie could understand Alcide's trepidation, she was not as innocent as he deemed her to be. She had worked in Bon Temps' most popular watering hole, where the locals could get frisky and rowdy after their third bottle of beer. Surely she could handle herself against the likes of Eric Northman or Marco Alfonso. And she was offended that he would think otherwise.

She let the uncomfortable silence hang in the air on for a few more seconds.

"Let's just forget this ever happened, 'kay? Can you just be a pal and trust me?" Sookie asked beseechingly.

She liked Alcide and she didn't want their friendship to be tainted by an incident like this. He still looked annoyed but she could also sense that he was trying to be sensible. It was a good start. She beamed at him before she gripped his wrist and propelled him out of the corridor and into the dining hall.

"C'mon, I smell steak. I'm so hungry, I can eat a whole cow!"

Alcide, who was still ticked off, decided to let her lead him. He only wanted to spend time with her and he decided not to let any arrogant prick ruin his chances with her.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric saw her emerge from behind the stage and he couldn't hide the scowl that formed in his face as he watched her drag the fur ball with her.

Their second course was already served when he came back to the table. There were two choices for the main course: a sous-vide Kobe wagyu with pepper sauce or an olive oil poached sea bass. Pam and Sophie-Anne picked the fish course while Pam ordered the steak for Eric and Stan.

Eric barely touched his food, no matter how delectable it looked. He didn't have the appetite for it anymore. After a considerable length of time, their plates were gathered and replaced with the dessert plates: a toss-up between pistachio soufflé and chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis and banana gelato.

The image of the gelato pulled Eric out of his sullen mood. He stole a glance at her direction and regretted it instantly when he saw her having a lively conversation with Alcide. As if to rub to salt on the wound, Alcide caught him looking and flashed him a haughty smirk before he draped his arm on Sookie's headrest.

'_Oh, so you want to dance, asshole? Let's dance.'_

He took the napkin off his lap as he geared up to stand from his chair but was stymied when Tara went up the podium again and clinked her glass with a knife to get everyone's attention. In keeping with the restaurant tradition she introduced the chefs responsible for the remarkable dinner they just had.

Selah Pumphrey, who changed from her chef's whites to a stylish black evening wear sauntered toward the stage followed by Marco Alfonso, who also suited up for the night.

Selah's high-pitched voice sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard to Eric. He was reminded of her derogatory remarks about _her_ earlier. He would make that wench pay for it, he thought, as he had filed it away for later. He had more pressing matters to deal with right now.

The executive chef thanked the guests for coming and Eric Northman for hosting the event. Marco Alfonso followed her example, but because the Michelin-starred chef was not keen on making speeches, he only muttered a few Italian jokes before he went straight to Eric's table.

"That went better than I expected," Marco said as he pulled a chair beside Eric.

"The meal was lovely, Marco. I should have known you were the one behind them," Sophie-Anne showered the celebrity chef praises.

"Will you be in charge of this kitchen, Marco?" asked Stan, who was calling a sommelier to refill his glass.

Marco shrugged after he took a swig of his whiskey. "No. I'm only here until tomorrow. Or until _my boss_ wants me. What do you say boss, can I stay here for another week?" he goaded Eric.

Eric glowered at Marco before he muttered a gruff, "no."

Marco was caught off guard by Eric's foul mood. Then he caught the Viking cast a sidelong glance across the room. He followed Eric's line of vision and quickly deciphered the reason behind his gloomy behavior. He tipped his head toward Eric before he spoke in a voice so low he was sure only the Viking would be able to hear him.

"You have to admit, she knows how to pick them, no?" Marco teased. "Do you know who the punk is?"

"A fucking sneeze," Eric grumbled. Marco let out a gusty laugh at Eric's reply.

"Never thought I'd see the day when you'd be proven mortal, Viking," Marco commented.

Eric gritted his teeth as he threw an irritated look at his Italian friend. Marco, however, did not waver with his teasing. But after a few more jabs he decided to stop his heckling as he asked Pam to dance with him.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie was getting restless. She could feel someone was watching her and she didn't need to look around to distinguish who it was.

She was trying her hardest to keep up with the conversation at her table but her mind kept drifting to a certain tall and blonde man across the room. Holly and Jessica were making her predicament even worse because they couldn't seem to stop talking about _him_.

"What do you think will be the first order of business tomorrow?" Holly asked. She would be working the lunch shift tomorrow along with Terry and they both shared a certain degree of panic after Tara had dropped the bomb on them.

"Maybe, he'll make all the girls wear short shorts and halter tops, while the men will be asked to wear Viking hats and fur," Jessica said a bit too perkily for Sookie's taste. Jessica was not as worried as Holly and Terry. The first time Eric Northman walked in the restaurant he left her a huge tip. That at least counted for something in Jessica's books.

Alcide looked expectantly at Sookie, waiting for her to put in her two cents. But Sookie kept mum. She would only join in the discussion when the topic wasn't Eric Northman. She had been like that since she came back from the powder room. She would giggle and coo every now and then but Alcide knew her long enough to tell when she was faking her zeal.

"That means he's also the one who gave us all the phones!" Holly blurted out.

'_Shit! The phones! What the hell am I gonna do with that?'_ Sookie thought. She already had an inkling that something was not right with those gifts. But now that she had learned Eric Northman was her new boss, there was no doubt in her mind that the gift came with a favor. Or at least a condition.

She would not keep it. She would not be indebted to him. She started considering giving it back to him, but what would she look like to her coworkers if they found out? That she had too much pride to accept a gift and they had none for keeping it?

No. She could not give it back to him. She knew he wouldn't take it back anyway and that he would only make a big ruckus out of it to her coworkers.

Her pondering was interrupted when Alcide hooked his arm behind her. She looked conspicuously at him. It wasn't like Alcide to act so aggressively.

"Mr. Fantastic's looking at you," Alcide whispered as if to answer Sookie's silent question. He made sure Eric Northman was staring at them when he tilted his head toward her, his face barely an inch from Sookie's cheek.

Sookie was still furious at the Viking. She had made it crystal clear that she didn't want anyone to find out that they had spent half an hour inside the ladies' restroom together.

But did he listen? Of course not. When she was asking him to stay hidden what he actually heard was: _go out and make Alcide think we had sex inside_.

She downed her glass of red wine in one gulp. She asked Terry for a refill and emptied the glass again before anyone could even take a sip from theirs. When she had summoned enough courage, she looked up from her table and returned his intense gaze.

'_Two can play at this game, Mr. Northman,'_ she thought with resolve. Even from a distance, she was able to detect the slight quirk of his eyebrow when she engaged him in a staring contest.

She had mastered the staring match when she was only fourteen. She couldn't count how many opponents she had stared down at the poker table. She never lost a match. Never. She took pleasure watching her rivals squirm and falter under her ice-cold stare.

Eric Northman would not be an exception. He would be her Everest.

Mount Everest, indeed. Because Eric Northman, aside from his initial reaction, managed to hold her gaze with a passion that could rival hers.

'_I will not let you win, you sonofabitch! You made me look like a slut in front of Alcide. You will not get away with it unscathed!'_ she thought with so much vehemence.

Alas, Alcide got in her way as he gripped her shoulder and forced her to look away.

'_Dog burn it!'_

"What?!" she snapped at Alcide.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. "You said so yourself, he's trying to mess with us. Why are you still entertaining his theatrics?"

Sookie felt like she was doused with cold water. Alcide was right. _'A bully only wins if you let him.' _She wouldn't fight fire with fire. She would fight with cold indifference.

She grabbed her glass that was filled anew and knocked back its contents. "Dance with me," she asked Alcide beside her.

She was too edgy to stay still and she needed a diversion from Eric Northman. Besides, Matt Goss had already taken his post by the grand piano.

An excited grin broke across Alcide's face before he stood up from his chair and offered his hand to Sookie.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric had tuned out everybody in the room the minute she locked eyes with him.

Sophie-Anne and Stan continued making small talk as though nothing bad had occurred between them only two days ago. Pam and Marco waltzed their way to Eric's side but he shooed them away with a wave of his hand.

If looks could kill, he was sure his face would be slammed on the table right now with the coroner trying to figure out the cause of his death. Death by attention overdose would be the right conclusion, he thought. And Eric Northman was loving every fucking second of it.

'_Come on, Miss Stackhouse. You can do better than that,'_ he thought in amusement. He was certain she was trying to send her hatred for him through her murderous stare, but he couldn't care less. An angry Sookie was better than no Sookie.

Then Alcide Herveaux, who was already on wafer thin ice with the Viking, intruded yet again. Eric almost slammed his fist on the table when the fucking hair ball interrupted _their_ private moment.

He felt his stomach churn in revulsion when he saw her and her scumbag of a date traipsed toward the dance floor. Eric swore a vein popped in his head as he watched the furry ass took her hands and placed them on his monstrous shoulder.

Then as if those weren't enough to exacerbate Eric, Matt Goss's voice filled the room as he started singing his rendition of Nat King Cole's L-O-V-E song.

Eric's hands balled into fists as he followed her movements.

He was hypnotized by her lithe body as it swayed enchantingly to the music. Then his face crumbled into a grimace when he saw her rest her head on the scruffy hulk's chest. He immediately averted his eyes from the dance floor. It was like watching someone giving birth. Unexplainably torturous.

Eric had no idea if _she_ were tormenting him on purpose. If she were, she was doing a sensational job. With gritted teeth and wounded pride, he turned his attention to two of the most boring and irritating people in the world: Stan and Sophie-Anne.

He feigned enthusiasm as he tried to block _her_ out. He would bob his head in agreement once in a while to make it seem like he was listening keenly to whatever fuck Mr. and Ms. Snore were talking about.

It was hard to look unaffected when all he wanted to do was choke Matt Goss with his bare hands. _'Why couldn't he just shut up?'_

Then as if someone up above was listening to his prayers, the song finally ended. He called the sommelier and asked for a glass of scotch before he turned toward the floor again.

But to his disheartenment, the couple wasn't done parading their closeness in front of him.

'_What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm Eric Northman! I fucking own this place! I shouldn't suffer like this!' _Eric thought as he raked his brain for an excuse to tear the couple apart without looking like an immature jerk.

Fortunately, he was blessed with good and clever friends. He was so consumed with his irrational rage that he barely noticed Pam and Marco making their way toward _her_ and her wolfish date until the four of them were huddled together.

His brilliant allies managed to yank the duo apart as Marco took _her_, while Pam grabbed the Yeti. He couldn't help the slow, gratifying smile that crept on his face as he watched Alcide, the scumbag, reluctantly let go of _her_.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to let Marco stay for another week, Eric mused. And Pam, his quick-thinking sidekick, could use another pair of Manolo's. The very fact that Eric knew what Manolo's were made him cringe for his vanity. _She_ would surely snort in derision at him if _she_ found out how many shoe brands he could name in under a minute.

Eric was already content just watching her from across the room, as long as she wasn't cozying up with her _plus one_.

However, Marco was feeling extra generous tonight. Eric reclined back in his chair, tracing his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, when he caught Marco's subtle signal.

He could barely contain his exhilaration as he plastered his most devilish smile on his face before before he stretched his arm out to Sophie-Anne. "Care for a dance, milady?"

Sophie-Anne Leclerq hated Eric Northman's guts as much he loathed hers, but they still knew how to keep up appearances when they were among their peers. Sophie-Anne picked the napkin off her lap and threw it pell mell at the table before she took Eric's hand.

Sophie-Anne was only five-foot-six but with her five-inch heels, she managed to reach Eric's shoulder as they gracefully swayed to the tune of Matt Goss's 2009 hit song _Evil_, which was a fitting depiction of Sophie-Anne and Eric's relationship.

* * *

**E/S**

"Is this a hobby of yours, chef, or just a favor to the Godfather?" Sookie asked with an air of nonchalance that it muddled Marco's brain for a little while.

"Huh?" Marco Alfonso asked eyebrows furrowed as he took a step back to gape at her. They were in the middle of the dance floor, away from the harsh eyes of the seated guests.

"You know exactly what I mean, chef. You, playing us all like a bunch of buffoons. Watching us jump in panic or huddle in fear like your very own dancing monkeys. Tell me, chef, did we at least provide you and Mr. Northman your money's worth of entertainment?" Sookie said with an acerbic smile dancing on her lips.

Marco stopped momentarily in his tracks as he studied Sookie closely. Her accusations were blunt but her features were calm and innocent. _'Oh, what a cunning girl you are,' _he thought.

He tugged her closer to him as they resumed with their slow groove. He let out a crackling chuckle before he pressed his cheek to her hair. "Were we at the same kitchen, Sookie? Because from my point of view, you were the one who almost made me shit in my pants with your big-ass knife."

Sookie kept silent as her face remained serene. She had already made her point. That it was a pretty Machiavellian thing he and and Eric Northman pulled on the staff of Fiordilatte. She had chastised herself relentlessly because she let that kind of scheming slip out of her radar. She had been too complacent that it did not even enter her mind that Marco Alfonso could be working for Eric Northman. _'Who the hell wasn't?'_

It seemed everywhere she went, there _he _was, always two steps ahead of her. And she was sick of his games. His manipulation. Not for the first time this night that she had contemplated leaving Las Vegas for good.

Maybe she could still work on her father's case even though she was miles away from Nevada. She was already crunching the numbers in her head - ticket fare, the first month's rent (she would have to give Tara the one-month advance she shelled out for Sookie when she hired her because Sookie would be terminating her contract prematurely) and a little extra cash she would need to keep afloat while she looked for another job. She was sure Lafayette had already found her replacement.

Her computation halted when Marco dipped her head as part of his elaborate dance step. He stared at her long and hard before he pulled her back up. She let him drag her to the corner as he sashayed with her. "How can someone be so smart and yet so dense?" he asked in a low murmur.

'_Great! More insults,'_ she thought with sarcasm.

"What? No more flowery words, chef? You ran out of sunshine metaphors?" Sookie retorted as she tried to keep up with his impressive foot work.

Marco shook his head in frustration before he smirked wryly. "Sookie, Sookie, Sookie. Are you just playing dumb or you're really that daft? Can't you see what Eric is doing here? I bet even a blind man will be able to tell that the Viking had it bad for you, _mia bella_."

Sookie scoffed before she lifted an eyebrow at the Italian chef. "That's rich, chef. A real classic," she deadpanned. She knew what Marco Alfonso was trying to do. He wanted to get a rise on her by diverting her anger into passion. And she would be a fool to fall for it. "Don't you think that's a bit low, chef? Eric Northman? C'mon! Can't you come up with something more plausible?"

"I guess now it's my turn to ask you to drop the act, Sookie. Can you honestly tell me you don't feel it?" Marco asked condescendingly. "Why do you think Eric bought this shithole? For its authentic taste of Italia? Please. This place is as Italian as Panda Express! Your head chef still boils the potatoes for her gnocchi, for fuck's sake!" Marco closed his eyes as he shuddered as though he was recalling an atrocious memory.

Sookie remained apprehensive and still positively vexed at Eric Northman. But something from Marco's statement was gnawing at her. And it was making her uneasy.

As though sensing her skepticism, Marco kept on with his pimping. "Do you know why I love my fucking stars so much, Sookie?"

Sookie didn't utter a reply but she kept her focus at him, urging him to continue.

"Because it reminds me of who I was ten years ago," he said. "I was a nobody, Sookie. Nothing but an irrelevant speck. We weren't well-off so I had no means to send myself to culinary school. I worked as a busboy in a small cafeteria in Florence. That's where I met my first wife, she was the cashier."

'_Is he for real? We're not even friends and he's telling me his life story? Am I giving off a vibe that I actually care?'_ Sookie thought in bewilderment. But she let him continue anyway. At least now, he wasn't pushing the preposterous notion that Eric Northman _liked_ her.

"Seven years later, I was still as broke as a joke that my wife couldn't take the taste of stale bread anymore. She had the proverbial itch and I had no means to scratch it. So she left me. I left Florence and I got a job in a hotel in Paris. Still a busboy, but at least the avenue was a lot wider. I finally caught a break when I met a cheeky young man who introduced me to the owner of Café du Nord where I worked for free as an apprentice. Ten years later, Marco Alfonso was born! My long beard became a James Beard award," he said, brimming with pride with a touch of melancholia.

Sookie did not see that one coming. She didn't have to be a rocket scientist to discern that the young cheeky man in Marco's story was none other than Eric Northman.

It stunk of conspiracy. First, Sam Merlotte and now Marco Alfonso, she wondered who would be next in line to tell her another fairy tale on how Eric Northman bettered their lives.

"Well, what are we waiting for, chef? Let's call Oprah. Or better yet let's call Stockholm because we have a Nobel Peace Prize winner here," Sookie said dryly.

Marco let out a sound that was between a huff and a snort. "Eric wasn't exaggerating when he told me you were snarky."

"We all have our thing, chef. You've got your stars, I've got my snark. We all have to have shields to protect ourselves from people who are so full of it."

Marco Alfonso, in a swift maneuver, twirled Sookie around so she could see the other side of the floor.

There, right beside the podium, was Eric Northman, who as dancing stiffly, with a redhead's arms languidly wrapped around his neck.

That was the first time she had a good look at his partner. She was the same woman she saw him with at the Luxor the other day.

As Sookie stared at the pair, she didn't expect the sharp lash of pain that shot up from her gut all the way to her throat. She suddenly felt lightheaded and her legs almost buckled under her weight.

She pinched her eyes shut before she pivoted to face Marco. She gripped his hand as she hung onto him to keep herself steady.

"Didn't I tell you, chef? He wasn't interested in me. It might be true that he bought this place because of me. But it wasn't out of infatuation. He did it to spite me. He was holding a grudge because I tried to mess with him," she muttered with a raspy voice.

Marco glided her toward the stage, a few feet away from Eric and his gorgeous partner. He managed to whisk her around so she would face the _lovely_ couple again. Sookie gritted her teeth in infuriation.

"Eric told me you're a great poker player. Means you're also good at reading a bluff," Marco said in a whisper. "Take a look at them, Sookie. Tell me, do they look like they're having a fucking good time?"

Sookie, against her better judgment, stole a glance at the Viking and the redhead. She flinched when she saw Eric looking straight at her. With all the strength she had, she shoved Marco and reverted position with him.

"I wanna go back to my seat now, please," she murmured in resignation.

"Not yet, _mia bella_. You still owe _him_ a dance."

Marco didn't give Sookie a chance to react and bolt as he propelled her toward the Viking.

"Eric, do you mind if we switch partners. I've been dying to dance with Sophie-Anne all night," Marco purred.

Eric threw Marco a look that could be interpreted as both impatient and relieved as he took Sookie by the hand and led her away from Sophie-Anne's dubious glare.

Sookie was fuming. She was being manhandled by Marco Alfonso and Eric Northman again. And she was rendered powerless to do anything about it. She had enough sense to will her temper down. She would be treated like a pariah if she were to make a scene in front of all his snooty guests.

Her eyes darted around the floor as she searched for Alcide. She was not that obstinate to admit that she needed help.

But to her dismay, her knight was nowhere to be found. She scoured the room for any sign of Alcide or Pam, the last person she saw him with. She found Pam lounging by the bar but Alcide wasn't anywhere near her.

"Who are you looking for?" Eric asked, drawing her focus back to him.

Sookie glared at the Viking but decided to bite back the nasty words that were threatening to spill out of her mouth. Eric Northman might be able to force her to dance with him but he couldn't coerce her talk. Not after the stunt he pulled at the restroom earlier.

Eric took a deep breath as he pulled her closer to him. It took a vast amount of effort not to sigh at the feel of her soft flesh against his suit. He cursed the intrusive fabric that separated him from feeling the warmth of her skin. The thin cloth of his suit might as well be the Berlin Wall from the way it hindered him from her.

He wanted to bury his nose in her hair. With their height difference his chin barely grazed the top of her head. He didn't like short women. His usual conquests must be tall enough so he wouldn't have to droop to kiss her. _She_, however, was _the_ exception to that rule. He would gladly hunch his back all night for her.

He clenched his jaw as he felt her stiffen under his ministrations. He knew he was already treading on eggshells with her. And rightfully so. What he did was infantile. But he just couldn't help himself. The second he heard her yell out Alcide's name, something inside him snapped. It was like everything that had materialized between them inside the stall was wiped clean by the emergence of that asshole.

It wasn't like him to do things on a whim, though. He was a man with a plan. He was calculating, systematic and guarded. But there was something about her that made him act so uncharacteristically irrational and callous. And it was driving him crazy.

He knew if he wanted her to warm up to him, he needed to straighten up his act. And fast.

Matt Goss managed to redeem himself when he started serenading them with his take of Cass Elliot's Dream A Little Dream Of Me. To Eric's delight, the crooner's enchanting voice seemed to weave its magic into her as he felt Sookie relax slightly under his grasp. He took it as an opening as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

This would be _his_ moment. Eric swallowed thickly before he spoke with as much gentleness as he could muster amid the loud thumping inside his chest. "I'm sorry about earlier."

For a second there, he thought she didn't hear him. But after a few charged moments, she looked up. "I quit," she said softly. It was so soft that it took Eric a few seconds for her words to sink in. Before he could utter a word of protest she spoke again. "I can't keep this up, Mr. Northman. I can't keep on hating you. My gran died of a heart disease. And the doctor said it was hereditary. For all I know, I have it too. I'm from the South so eating meat is like a religion to us. And all this loathing could be the death of me. So, I quit, Mr. Northman. You win. It seems Vegas is too small for the two us. This hate-hate relationship we have, it's just too much."

Eric's eyes lost focus as he stared at her. _'No! You can't do this! You can't leave me!'_

"I never hated you," he choked out haltingly. His voice was betraying him. _'No, no, no!'_

As if the universe was conspiring against him, the song ended and Alcide instantly emerged at their side.

"Sook?" Alcide asked as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

Sookie flashed Eric a ghost of a smile. It wasn't a victor's smile. Quite the opposite, actually. She looked desolate. Defeated. She turned her back to Eric and started dragging her feet as she and Alcide made their way back to their table.

Eric stood like a statue for a good minute, until mercifully, Pam came up beside him. "The pyrotechnic show is about to begin. You should make your parting speech before we ushered the guests outside."

'_Fireworks!'_ Eric thought in panic. He was still reeling from _her_ quasi rejection. However, the idea of fireworks snapped him back to the present. It completely slipped his mind to order Pam to cancel the fireworks display after he learned that _she _despised them, for reasons he didn't know - _yet_.

He frantically searched the room for _her_. It was too late to call it off now and the least he could do was warn _her_. He sprinted toward the employees' table and swore under his breath when he couldn't find her or Alcide, for that matter.

He knew he couldn't go asking the staff of her whereabouts without looking suspicious. So he went back to his table and ordered Marco and Pam to do it for him before he made the announcement.

**E/S**

"I was looking for you," Sookie told Alcide as the latter steered her toward the hallway leading to the restrooms.

"Tray called me," Alcide replied as he slipped his mobile phone inside his jacket pocket. "They had trouble down at Fremont and they need me to bail them out."

Sookie was quickly in full go-mode. Fear and anxiety evident on her face. "What happened to them? Is Jason okay? Where are they?" she asked in frenzy.

Alcide suddenly looked uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed as he dropped his gaze on the floor. He tucked his hands in his pocket as he tried to come up with the right words to describe his friends' unusual predicament to Sookie.

"Hey, Alcide!" Sookie snapped her fingers together at his face. "Answer me! What's the emergency? Did something happen to Jason?"

"No, cher. Don't worry yourself. It's… kind of a guy thing," Alcide said timidly. "Calvin was caught -"

Sookie waited impatiently for Alcide to continue as she stared at him with piercing eyes.

Alcide ran his fingers through his thick black hair nervously.

"Dammit! Alcide, cowboy up and just say it!"

Alcide swallowed air before he spoke. "Calvin was caught getting blown by a hooker behind a strip club. The manager of the joint caught him and demanded he spring up for the whole night. The bouncer was ripping them off and Jason asked if I could loan them an advance so they could cough up the cash."

'_Sonofamother! Those horny bastards!'_

"I'll come with you. I can give Jason the cash, you don't need to loan him any," Sookie said before she started marching back to their table.

Alcide grabbed her wrist to stop her. "Hold up, Sook! Jason isn't the one who needs the cash, so you don't need to come. Really."

"It doesn't matter! He's part of it and I can't let him get in trouble," Sookie argued.

"Cher, the thing is… the guys don't want me to tell you what happened. Jason made me swear that I won't tell you. And those guys will not think twice tearing me limb by limb if they find out I told anybody of their - you know."

Sookie understood. She wasn't really keen on going to a strip club - and to fetch her brother, nonetheless. That would only result to a level of awkwardness she wasn't certain she was equipped for. She glanced at Alcide and noticed that he was still discomfited by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

"Are you sure you're not just ditching me to join those horn dogs?" Sookie said with mock indignation.

"Hell, no!" he quickly retorted. "I was actually going to ask you if I can bring you back to your apartment now. And if I can go back there to resume our talk after I deal with those jerkwads." He started scratching his scruffy beard as he waited fretfully for her response.

But Sookie didn't want to leave yet. Now that she had virtually resigned, she wanted to bid her friends goodbye properly. She didn't know what kind of bull Eric Northman would come up with to explain her quitting and she wanted Holly, Terry and Jessica, at least, to hear her reason firsthand. She would have to lie to them, of course. But at least she could bid them farewell in the process.

She had considered telling Alcide her decision. She knew he would understand. He might even offer to help her move back to Bon Temps. But she didn't want Jason to find out about it from Alcide.

She shrugged. "I think I'm gonna stay for a little while. I haven't had the chance to really hang out with the girls. Besides it's your last night, you should spend it with the boys. Go and drink beer and ogle at women!" She giggled when she saw Alcide wince at her last words. "Seriously, Alcide. I'll be fine. I'll catch a ride with Holly or Terry. They brought their cars with them and my flat's along their way. Stop worrying and just go." She pushed him toward the dining hall.

Alcide hesitated. "But what about your jackass boss?"

"He won't bother me anymore," Sookie said with vehemence. She had to push back the grim feeling at the pit of her stomach. "Trust me, okay? I'll see you guys tomorrow before you leave. And, oh, tell Calvin I'm sorry his night _sucked_." She grinned at Alcide before she raised her hands up as a sign of surrender before she made a zipping gesture with her lips.

Alcide, who kept glancing back at her after every few steps, disappeared at the narrow corridor.

It was probably for the best that Alcide wouldn't be with her when she divulged her news to her coworkers. He might assume the worst and start a brawl with Eric Northman.

'_Yeah, right. Like you're so freaking gorgeous that two attractive men would fight over you,'_ she chided herself inwardly.

Hold on, did she just think of Eric Northman as attractive?

Hell, who was she kidding? Eric Northman was a fine piece of specimen. She even thought when heaven started raining refined physical attributes Eric Northman was smack in the middle of a meadow with a hundred buckets in tow so he wouldn't miss a single drop.

She wasn't a hypocrite either. She was aware of Eric Northman's effect on women. She had experienced them twice herself. First was during their initial meeting at the North and the second was more than an hour ago at the powder room cubicle. She was only human, after all. And although she had no experience with men before, it didn't mean she was frigid. But it didn't mean she would entertain such a ridiculous idea that he _liked_ her, according to Marco Alfonso's deduction. She had watched people kowtow to him like he was a patron saint. Some wanted to touch him while some were contented just to be in the same room with him. Well, she wasn't like them. '_No. Nope. Never.'_

With a sigh she left the corridor to look for Holly. She wanted to talk to her first, since they had been closer.

Matt Goss's stellar performance was done. He was now substituted by the regular pianist, who had been holding the fort while dinner service was on-going.

On her way back to the table, Sookie noticed Pam as the leggy blonde made her way to the stage.

"Ladies and gents, on behalf of us all from Fiordilatte, we would like to thank you for coming and for sharing with us this momentous evening. That said, it won't be the fourth of July if we don't end this night with a bang, am I right?" Pam paused as the guests cheered unanimously. "Please enjoy the presentation we have prepared outside. Thank you and good night."

The guests piled up in an orderly fashion - leave it to the rich to queue with such elegance and flair. The staff trailed behind them. Sookie saw Holly and Terry made their way out, eager to watch the vortex of light and sounds in the sky.

The room was almost empty when Sookie started to feel the dread and anxiety sink in. Her mind was in a chaotic mode that she couldn't decide where to go.

'_Oh, god, no!'_ She turned her heels around as she started to make her way back to the powder room. She could hide in one of the stalls until the fireworks display was over. She didn't notice she was gasping for breath as she quickened her pace.

She was in the middle of the corridor when two strong arms grabbed her and swept her off her feet. She shrieked as she flailed her arms. It was then that she recognized the man who had seized her.

It was Eric Northman.

With his long legs that moved so rapidly they were inside the kitchen before she could utter a single word of protest. There were two porters, who were among the cavalry he had sent, that were busy washing the dishes. They jolted when they saw that Eric entered the kitchen.

Eric put Sookie down on her feet. She straightened her dress as she tried to avoid the perplexed looks from the kitchen staff. The Viking turned his attention to the porters.

"Don't you want to watch outside?" Eric asked them. Without missing a beat, the dishwashers let go of the movable taps, dried their soapy hands on their aprons and made themselves scarce in a jiffy.

"You really have no sense of boundaries, do you?" Sookie snarled at the Viking as soon as they were alone in the kitchen.

Eric ignored her as he clamped his hand on her wrist like a vice before he pulled her inside Tara and JV's former office, which was technically his office now. Once inside he pushed her down the swivel chair behind the desk before he made his way to the windows overlooking the kitchen and the employees' parking lot. He pulled the cord of the venetian blinds that were draped over the windows to shut it close.

Eric was moving so fast that Sookie thought he had lost his mind. Then as he was closing the last window, a thought struck her and she was suddenly blanketed with terror. _'Oh god! He's gonna force himself on me!'_

She stood up from her chair as she tried to think of the best way to make her exit without agitating him further. There was no way she could overpower him nor outrun him. So she decided she would go for the sneak attack. She would try to slip out quietly without his notice and if he tried to block her she would kick him in the groin. Jason taught her the groin maneuver and she knew how to execute it flawlessly. Her brother and some inebriated men in Bon Temps could attest to that.

But just as she was going around the desk, Eric Northman made his way toward the door. He paused to look at her as he reached for the knob. "Stay here. The display will last for about fifteen minutes." He glanced at his wristwatch to check the time. 11.22pm. Pyrotechnics display was cued to go off at 11.30 on the dot. "You'll be safe enough here. I'll be outside if you need me. Do you need water? Wine?"

Sookie was rendered mute. She could not believe what was happening. Eric Northman was letting her use his office as refuge. She could only shake her head no in response to his offer of refreshments. With a terse nod, Eric left the room and closed the door behind him.

Sookie slumped back to the chair as she tried to come to grips with what had just happened. After a few minutes, the unmistakable crackling and whistling of firecrackers sounded. She closed her eyes as she rammed her palms on her ears. The sounds were now muffled and there was only darkness around her.

But it didn't matter.

The memories still came and it flooded her like images from a slide projector. She could see her father, wearing his sky blue plaid shirt that got wrinkled with dried tears, as he waved goodbye to her before he folded himself inside the cab the day he left with Mac Rattray.

Followed by the distraught face of her brother, who was as white as a sheet, as he rushed to the Fortenberry's bearing bad news.

And lastly, the image of her gran as she waited for her and Jason at the porch, tear-stricken with arms wide open, ready to comfort them, pushing aside her own grief over losing her son.

They said memories could be triggered by sound, smell or sight. Theirs were set off by all three.

The crackling sound the fireworks made. The smell of sulphur in the air, and the vivid colors and shapes they formed when they hit the sky. They were all repulsive for Sookie and Jason because those three mixed together created the perfect symphony that reminded them of their tragic day. The day they lost _him_.

True to his words, Eric Northman stayed outside the door as he stood guard for her. He didn't know why she hated those damn pyro shows so much but if it mattered that much to her then he would do his damn best to keep her from them.

He could hear her soft whimpers and muffled sniffs. He knew she was too proud to show her weakness, especially to him. So he tried not to eavesdrop. He went to the main counter where different kinds of wines were gathered. He picked a 1980 merlot and poured her a glass full. He thought she would need it once the show was over. He went back to his post beside the door and he could still hear her soft cries. He involuntarily cringed from the sound. It felt like someone was making small slashes on his chest.

After a few more minutes, the fireworks display had ceased. He knew that in any minute, the porters would barge inside the kitchen to finish the clean up. He whipped out his phone and dialed Pam's number. "Buy me at least twenty more minutes before you let the staff inside the kitchen." He waited for her response before he muttered a silent "thanks," and shoved the phone back in his breast pocket.

Sookie must have heard Eric's orders because not a minute later she opened the door, eyes still puffed up from crying. She kept her head low as she slipped right past him and went inside the employees' quarters.

She washed her face clean of any traces of make-up, before she quickly changed back into her jeans and shirt. She didn't know what to make of Eric Northman's sudden shift but she was grateful, nonetheless.

She took a few deep breaths before she emerged out of the locker room. She was slinging her bag over her shoulders when she saw Eric lolling around by the counter, loosening his gray tie around his neck.

He directed his gaze at her as he picked up the glass of red wine from the counter. "Thought you might need this."

She did, actually. She was still on edge and she felt rude to decline him after what he did for her. With a little reluctance, she took the glass and guzzled a mouthful of the rouge wine.

"Thank you," she said as she put it back down at the counter, still half full.

"Are you going home?" Eric asked casually as he folded his tie neatly and placed it in his trousers' pocket.

Sookie bobbed her head in assent. She grabbed her knives' roll from her station before she started toward the back door. She would just go back tomorrow morning to talk to her friends. It was an exhausting day and all she wanted to do was go home and get some shut eye.

"Let me take you home," Eric offered coolly.

Sookie stared at him for a long time before she shook her head no. "Thanks for the offer, Mr. Northman. But I don't wanna impose."

"You're not imposing. I'm offering," he said as he swaggered toward her. "You're in no condition to commute and I don't see any of your friends anywhere."

Sookie was still baffled at his shift of character. Was it out of pity? Or was it one of his furtive tricks?

"Are those knives?" Eric asked, pulling her out of her musings. Sookie looked down at her bag before she nodded. "I assume you know how to use them?" She nodded again. She knew what he was getting at. "Pull one out and keep it in your hand. If you sense me doing anything suspicious, then feel free to stab me with it. I promise, I won't hold it against you. Although I have to remind you, I have a GPS chip in my head, you'll have to dump my body at least two states away from Nevada." His lips tugged into a crooked smile.

Sookie didn't know what came over her. But despite her internal battle, she acquiesced and let him lead her outside to his parked car.

The car ride was silent. Sookie gave Eric her address. She thought it didn't matter if he knew where she lived anyway. She would be out of that place soon. Unbeknownst to her, Eric already knew where she resided.

"Is it your father?" Eric broke the silence after what seemed like an eternity of hearing nothing but crickets.

Sookie kept her gaze outside the window. She was debating whether to tell him or just let him assume. She finally chose the former as she replied. "We didn't know when he really died. So we just commemorate his death every Fourth of July."

"By choice?"

Sookie glared at him. "We are not a bunch of nutjobs, Mr. Northman. We don't just close our eyes and point at a date on the calendar," she snapped.

She inhaled sharply before she continued. This time her voice was calmer, more detached. "Nevada police informed us of his demise during Independence Day ten years ago."

Eric became pensive as he filed that information for later processing.

Sookie huffed as she turned her gaze back to the window. "You must think I'm pathetic for pining over someone who has been dead for a decade," she scoffed.

Sookie yelped as she dropped the knife she was holding - yes, she did take one out for precaution - when Eric suddenly pulled up into a curb. He hit the brakes with so much force that if it weren't for her seatbelt keeping her in her place, she would have been thrown out of her seat.

Eric pulled the hand brake before he faced her, looking dead serious.

"I can think of a lot of words to describe you, Miss Stackhouse, but I assure you none of them is pathetic. Why are you so fixated on thinking the worst of me? Am I really so vile that we can't carry a decent conversation for more than ten minutes?"

Sookie gulped as she took note of the level of intensity of his stare. She should have listened to her gran: _never hitch a ride with a stranger_. Her gran forgot to include a small caveat: _or if the person happened to be Eric Northman_.

Sookie bit her lip as she fixed her eyes down at slightly shaking hands.

'_Shit! Now, she's afraid of me! Fucking smooth, Viking!'_ Eric scolded himself as she studied her.

"I tend to resort to snark or self-deprecating humor when I'm nervous," she blurted. That was true. Those two were her go-to defense mechanisms. She swallowed again before she continued. "And you seem to bring out the worst in me."

Eric was taken aback by her honesty. She had never looked so fragile and innocuous before that very moment.

Eric leaned back on his seat and covered his face with his hands before he groaned loudly. _'You can still salvage this,' _he tried to convince himself.

The silence dragged for a few more seconds before he turned to her again. "Can we just have a truce?" Eric asked.

Sookie stared at him as she searched his features for any deception. She found none.

She guessed it wouldn't hurt to have a ceasefire with Eric Northman. She might not see him again after tonight. It would be nice to end their relationship on a positive note.

After a considerable pause, she stretched out her hand to him and for a second, Eric thought she was mocking him. They might have reached a stalemate, but there was still lingering doubt between them.

Eric took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

"To celebrate our unusual bond, I have someone I think you'd be interested to see."

He unbuckled his seatbelt as he reached for her knife on the floor of the car. He gave it back to her with a wink. Sookie wanted to ask him what he meant but she had grown tired of his games. Whatever he meant would be revealed to her eventually.

They were back on the road and Eric was like a maniac behind the wheels. Sookie held on to her knife with one hand while she gripped the door handle at her side. In less than ten minutes or so, they were in a parking lot beside the airport. Eric took his cellphone out and made a call.

Few cryptic exchanges later they were driving inside a middle class village that had rows of uniformed bungalows. The car pulled to a slow stop at house number 1699.

Eric got out of the car and was beside Sookie's door in a flash.

"Where are we?" Sookie asked as she clutched her knife close to her chest and stared at Eric with her perpetually doubtful eyes.

"You'll find out soon enough," he said with calm confidence.

Sookie stepped out of the car and stood beside Eric as he rang the doorbell. A middle-aged woman dressed in leopard prints came strolling out of the door. She smiled sweetly at Eric while she scrutinized Sookie with her heavily lidded eyes. Without further ado, she let Eric and Sookie in.

It was obvious that the Viking was a frequent visitor of the place. He was greeted warmly and everyone was looking at him with veneration, as usual.

The Viking returned their salutations with brief but cordial nods as he kept his pace slower than usual so Sookie could keep up with him.

The lady in leopard print led Eric and Sookie down the basement which was password encrypted. Two men were beside the door as it slid open. They both glared at Sookie and her unusual choice of accessory but Eric waved them off.

Sookie was getting twitchy the deeper she went into the lair. She was sure it was a lair of some kind. But she thought if it were her time to bite the dust then she would go down with a fight.

Eric uttered something in Italian to a man who looked like the old man character in the Disney movie Up, Mr. Fredericksen - only less charismatic and more intimidating. Mr. Fredericksen gave Sookie a once over before he smirked and bobbed his head in agreement to whatever Eric Northman said.

Eric placed a hand on her back as he led her toward a room with a red light beside it. Like the one the photographers used when they were developing pictures the old-fashioned way. Eric swung the door open and went inside before he gave way for Sookie to enter.

Sookie lost her grip on her knife and it fell on the floor with a clanging sound. Her lips parted but no words came out as she stared at the man tied up in the middle of the room.

It was Mac Rattray.

* * *

**A/N: I own no one. **

**It's longer than I wanted but I can't make myself break this chapter apart. I tried but I can't. Sorry. Hopefully, it's not too long for your liking. Dessert is coming up and it's going to be served with a Rat on top. **

**First of, I want to give a BIG shout out to the fabulous leivasquez who generously shared her precious talent and time into making a banner for Dead Man's Hand. You are a rock star! I love you to bits! Check out her awesome banner at leivasquez . wordpress . com**

**She also made banners for a number of fantastic fictions that capture our favorite Viking's damn sexiness. Oh, and Sookie, too, of course!**

**Secondly, to my wonderful beta SadieSwirl. Thank you! Until next time, I hope? Hee hee.**

**And, of course, to all my unbelievably inspiring and amazing readers, I love you all so much! Thank you!**

**Love, love, love, dearies!**

'


	15. Chapter 15

Mac Rattray's head drooped as he sat motionless in a stainless steel chair. He was strapped to his seat with his hands and feet bound with thick rope.

When the door burst open, Mac Rattray lifted his head up to see who his new tormentors would be. He hardly slept a wink since he was brought in to Big Tony.

Anthony Murello's men were all eager to welcome Mac Rattray as they took turns in beating him up. Jake Purifoy, Big Tony's right-hand man, called dibs on the Rat's manhood. He had taken pleasure seeing the dread on the men's eyes when he showed them the infamous blade that would neuter them. But Big Tony was under strict orders from the Viking that the Rat would not be castrated until he met Eric's associate.

Eric didn't take his eyes off her as she stared at the Rat with a blank expression. He stole a glance at Mac Rattray, whose eyes were so swollen that he needed to shift his head forward to recognize his visitors.

Mac jerked back in his chair, his frail body shrinking as he tried to hunch his back to evade the Viking's glare.

Eric's nose wrinkled in disgust before he returned his gaze to her. She hadn't moved from her position but he noticed her lips were pressed together in a tight line.

The Viking bent down to pick up the knife that fell from her hand. "I can leave you two alone, but if you want me to stay…" he let his offer linger in the air as he analyzed her reaction to his _gift_.

Sookie, without taking her eyes off the Rat, shook her head no. "I can take it from here, Mr. Northman. Thank you."

Eric looked back at Mac Rattray, who was still wriggling like a fetid worm in his seat. He didn't want to leave _her_ with Rattray, but he could understand her need to be alone with the Rat. The lowlife scammer had a lot of explaining to do.

The Viking nodded stiffly as he passed the knife back to her.

She looked at the ominous-looking tool in his hand before she said, "no. I won't need it."

Eric thought of urging her to take it, but he bit back the words. He would be in the next room, anyway, and Mac Rattray was too weak to do anything perverse toward her.

Eric threw Mac Rattray another baleful look before he leaned toward her. "I'll be right outside," he muttered his assurance.

For the first time since she entered the room, she looked away from Mac Rattray to meet Eric's eyes. Her chocolate-brown orbs were hard and unblinking. Unforgiving. But they softened a bit as she stared at Eric.

"I know," she said with certainty.

Eric's eyebrow quirked almost imperceptibly as he took in her expression. It was the first sign of trust she had shown toward him since they met.

If it were a different place, he would have grabbed her and kissed her senseless right then. But they were in Tony's place and he didn't want to feel how soft her lips were in front of the Rat.

Without another word, he stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him. He made his way inside the adjoining room where he could watch her as she caught up with Mac Rattray.

Anthony Murello was in front of a small computer monitor smoking a cigar with his back on the door. He didn't look behind from his chair when Eric came in. He picked up the wooden cigar box from the small table beside the ashtray and extended it to the Viking.

Eric declined the tobacco as he sat at the recliner chair beside Big Tony.

"That's the broad, huh?" Big Tony grumbled as the two of them watched her and Mac Rattray through the surveillance camera inside the torture room hidden in the light fixture at the ceiling.

**E/S**

"Are you here to finish me off, darling?" Mac Rattray mumbled as he stared at Sookie through his swollen eyes.

The second Eric Northman left the room, Mac Rattray suddenly became optimistic. He started sizing Sookie up. She was like a deer caught in the headlights ever since she stepped in. She didn't look sinister at all so he might have a chance to sweet talk her into letting him go. If Eric Northman trusted her enough to leave her in the room with him, then she must hold sway over the Viking - even a little.

"Do you know who I am?" Sookie asked after a long while. Her expression was detached, objective.

Mac took a hard look at her. There was something about her that looked awfully familiar but he didn't have the strength to rack his brain anymore.

After a few moments, Mac gave up and shook his head. "If you're here to kill me darling, go ahead and just do it already."

"Why would you think I was sent here to kill you?"

"Because if you don't, I know _he_ will," he retorted.

"He?" Sookie inquired although she already had a pretty good guess who the Rat meant.

"Eric Northman," he spat the Viking's name like bile in his mouth. "For some reason he thinks it's okay for him to use my hand as a dartboard and my face as a sand bag!"

Sookie's eyes fell to his hands. There was a festering wound in his left hand. She didn't know what Mac Rattray did to incur such wrath from the Viking but she had a hunch _she _had something to do with it.

She pushed that notion at the back of her mind. Now was not the time to ponder on Eric Northman's actions.

"Do you remember Corbett Stackhouse?" she asked calmly.

Mac Rattray let out an exasperated grunt before he replied. "Bert, again?! What did that sonofabitch do this time? I've already told Mr. Northman I don't know what happened to that loser!"

Sookie clenched her jaw upon hearing Mac Rattray's abhorrent words toward her father. But she tamped her temper down. First, she needed her answers.

"That deadbeat was a sorry excuse for a gambler. It was a mistake dragging him here. He's a fucking money pit!" Mac was relentless with his bitter diatribe against Corbett Stackhouse, the man he thought had put him in this much trouble with the Viking. Maybe Eric Northman sent the girl to get information from him about Bert, Mac thought.

"Money pit?" Sookie said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, a fucking cash drain! He won a couple of rounds at first but then Dumbo started spiralling down, so I cut my losses. I wasn't gonna stay and watch his sorry ass get kicked out of Vegas. I took off before he could drag me down with him," Mac continued, oblivious of Sookie's rising fury. "So, no, missy, I don't have a fucking clue what happened to Bert!"

Sookie dropped her gaze to the floor as she unclenched her balled up hands. A few deep breaths later, she looked up again with a saccharine smile on her unruffled face.

"Aw, ain't that a shame. I was so looking forward to meeting you Mr. Rattray. I was told you have information on the _deadbeat gambler_ I was lookin' for. Oh, well. Another dead-end, I guess. You have a good night, now, mister. T'was nice talking to you." Her Southern accent was more pronounced as she turned around and reached for the knob.

"Wait! Wait! Darling! Don't just leave me here. I've told everything I know. Please, tell them to let me go!" Mac Rattray bellowed helplessly, spit dribbling out of his mouth as he begged Sookie. "Please!"

Sookie paused by the door, her hand gripping the knob so hard her knuckles had turned white. She pivoted and faced Mac Rattray, her unnatural grin still etched on her face.

"Oh, dear! I'm such a scatterbrain! Here, let me get you out of that darn smelly chair! These people and their manners! My gran would roll over in her grave if she saw how they're treatin' a good man like you," she said with exaggerated indignation as she stepped closer to the Rat.

The closer she moved toward him the stronger the putrid stench of urine and vomit smelled. She had to hold her breath and bite her cheeks to keep her dinner from making an appearance.

Mac's face brightened up instantly. His lips curled into a giddy grin that looked repulsive against his grayish face. "You are an angel! You can't even imagine the kind of things these people subject me to."

"Oh, no! We can't have that!" Sookie said in mock sentiment.

"Why don't you untie me now, sweetheart? I can tell you all about it later," Mac said with a bit of urgency as he stole a glance at the door. "And I have to say your accent is very charming. You from the South?"

"Why, yes! Born and bred!" Sookie exclaimed as she took her time closing their distance.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think Bert's also from the South. Maybe that's where you two met?" Mac asked. He wasn't really interested with Bert Stackhouse or whatever the fuck his connection was to the woman who was going to save him from Big Tony and Eric Northman. He just wanted to form a sort of kinship toward the girl before she changed her mind about letting him go. He was famous for being a smooth talker and blondie the bumpkin would not be a challenge for him.

As though she heard his thoughts, Sookie stopped in her tracks.

'_Motherfucker!'_ Mac screamed in his head. Only a few paces and she would be close enough to unleash him. His eyes lost focus as he struggled to find the right words to get her moving again.

"Was," Sookie uttered silently. Mac Rattray furrowed his brows as he tried to discern what she meant. "He _was_ from the South. And yes that was where we met."

Mac Rattray heaved a sigh when she continued advancing toward him. He almost blew it. He had to remain in her good side at least until after he was free.

"Yeah, I heard he died. Tragic. But I can't say I'm really sad. Bert made a lot of enemies. He was better off dead," he murmured. If this girl were hunting Corbett, too, then that was a place to start. He would make an enemy out of her foe, if that was what it would take for her save him.

Sookie didn't utter another word as she stared at him thoughtfully. The silence was making Mac uneasy so he started another approach.

"What's your name, angel? It sure is nice to know the name of my savior," he said as he flashed his most striking smile.

Sookie's slow steps halted as she met his gaze, no longer smiling.

"Sookie," she muttered with a raspy voice. "Sookie Stackhouse."

Mac Rattray's expression changed from buoyant to surprise until it finally crumbled to pure terror.

"Remember me now?" Sookie asked.

"Sookie! Sookie! It's Uncle Mac! Sweetheart, you know me. You know I can't hurt your dad! Believe me, I didn't know what happened to him!" he pleaded.

Sookie took one more step closer to him so he could have a good look at her. His acrid smell was almost overwhelming. But Sookie didn't mind. Her rage was stronger than her repulsion.

"I believe you," she said with a cold hard stare. "I believe that you left him when he didn't turn out to be the winner you were hoping for. What was that term you used? Ah, yes! Money pit! Did he ask you for the fare back to Louisiana? Did he ask you to help him come home?" Sookie asked. A vein in her forehead throbbed as she tried to keep her voice low and venomous.

Mac Rattray had the decency to drop his gaze to the floor. She was spot on with her assumptions. When Bert got kicked out of the second tournament they joined, he asked Mac for his share of the winnings so he could come home. But Mac got greedy. Bert had managed to place third in their first tourney. It was a big feat for someone as green as Corbett. So he prodded Bert to give it another go in the following week's big stake event at the Mandalay.

But Bert's initial victory turned out to be nothing but a beginner's luck when he was ousted from the first table. He begged Mac to give him his cut and the Rat promised to give Bert what was left of his winnings the next day. However, Mac Rattray was too devious for Corbett. He skipped town the same night. Never to be seen in Las Vegas until the following year.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Sookie spat as she cast another vindictive glare at Mac, she turned around and made her way toward the door.

Sookie had her answers. She didn't have any more reason to be in the same room with someone as detestable as him.

"I know about the markers!" Mac Rattray yelled after her.

She paused by the door again.

"I know Bert owed a lot of money to Long Shadow. I have cash, a lot of it. I can help you pay off your debt," Mac negotiated. That was his ace. He was waiting for the weakest link in Big Tony's chain of command to appear so he could buy his freedom with the money he accumulated from conning small-time gamblers.

When he came back to Nevada, he found out from his contacts that Corbett's losing streak continued and that the poor gambler had started using casino markers from dubious loan sharks one of which was the big-time shark known only as Long Shadow. He had fled Nevada again, afraid that Bert would find him and ask for his money. Mac went East, and started recruiting in Atlantic City. He waited two more years before he returned to Las Vegas and he had never heard anything about Bert again - until now.

Sookie spun around to face him again. "I bet my father asked you the same thing. I bet he asked you to help him, too."

"Don't be stupid, Sookie! We can help each other. Get me out of here and I'll give you the cash out front."

Sookie took three long steps toward him so he would see the raw hatred in her face.

"Its ten years too late," she said through clenched jaw. "I don't need your money! I won't be held responsible for all the lives you've ruined that came with your filthy cash. There is nothing you can do to make things better for me, for us. It will never bring my father back to me. But if there's one thing I'm sure of, is that I'll be able to sleep better at night knowing that you had a worse fate than him."

Mac Rattray thrashed hysterically against his bindings as he spewed hateful words at Sookie.

Sookie just kept staring at him, for the first time since she saw Mac Rattray, a genuine smile broke across her face.

"Fucking whore! You're gonna regret this! You better make sure they kill me because if I get out of here, I will bury you alive! You fucking cunt!" Mac Rattray screamed.

The door slammed open, revealing Eric Northman, hands balled into tight fists, seething with unadulterated rage. He pushed Sookie behind him before he threw a hard punch at the spasmodic Rat.

Mac's chair stumbled on the floor as the Rat started hacking out blood from his mouth. Eric kicked Mac Rattray in the gut a few times before two arms wrapped around his waist and started pulling him back, away from the convulsing body of Mac Rattray.

It was Sookie. She hugged him from behind and tugged him outside the room. Two men from another room rushed inside Mac's cell to check on the pathetic creature.

Sookie let go of the Viking as she pushed him against the wall. Eric was still fuming as his chest heaved up and down with ragged breath. Sookie cupped his jaw as she forced him to look at her.

Eric finally calmed down as he met her gaze. Sookie stood on her tiptoes and for a fleeting second, Eric thought she was going to kiss him. He inched his face closer to her, feeling her hot breath on his cheeks.

"Don't kill him," she whispered.

Eric immediately drew back from her, confused. "You heard what he said."

"I did. But a wise man once told me, you can't teach someone a lesson when they're dead," she flashed him a small smile as she echoed his words to her during their lunch date at El Gordo's. When Eric Northman had told her he had never taken a man's life before, because death was too good for his enemies.

Eric recalled the moment he had told her that and, in spite of his anger toward the Rat, he beamed back at her. _'Damn, I want to kiss you.'_ If he moved his head a little he would be able to close the gap. Just a little.

"Eric, what do you want us to do with the Rat?" Anthony Murello had the worst timing as he approached the Viking.

Eric glowered at Big Tony before he returned his eyes to Sookie. "You should ask Miss Stackhouse."

Sookie faced the old man with a cane. "Turn him over to the authorities. I'm sure a scumbag like him has a record that can put him away for life."

Big Tony shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that. He's seen too much. That's a risk I'm not willing to take."

"Then make him forget," Sookie said without missing a beat. "I'm sure a man of your status knows how make that happen."

Big Tony chuckled before he looked at the Viking. "I like how this one thinks. Can I keep her?"

Sookie squeezed a little closer to Eric.

Eric shot daggers at Big Tony before he muttered, "no."

'_She's mine. She just doesn't know it yet. But she will be mine.'_

* * *

**E/S**

Eric and Sookie left the Murello's quickly after they agreed that Mac Rattray would be turned over to LVPD. Just as soon as he revealed where he kept the money he was bragging about, Big Tony stressed. Mac had managed to cheat Big Tony a large sum of cash before he disappeared to Carson City. Big Tony asked Sookie again if she wanted a cut of the loot and the latter did not have to think it over again before she declined.

She had more important things to worry about. The first one on the list was locating the infamous Long Shadow.

They rode in silence as she stared out the window. Eric would glance at her every few seconds, weighing her mood.

He wasn't sure what she really thought of his _peace offering. _And aside from their brief moment of unreserved affability, she had retreated back to her shell.

He swore under his breath as they drew near her street. The car slowed to a stop at the curb in front of her building. She unbuckled her seat belt and Eric mimicked her movement. But as he was unlatching his belt, she put her rough, shaky hand over his.

"Thank you. That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," she murmured. Her voice was hoarse and trembling, as though she was trying to keep it steady.

Eric locked his gaze with hers. "Stay."

She drew her eyebrows together quizzically.

"Stay at the restaurant. Stay in Vegas. Stay here."

Sookie bit her lip, unsure what to say. She was terribly conflicted. All arrows were pointing at her to stay. She finally caught a break with her father's case. She had another reason in the form of Long Shadow. She could definitely use the money she would earn at Fiordilatte. And Mac Rattray would be behind bars because of Eric Northman. Staying in Vegas was unquestionably the better option.

But when she stared at Eric Northman's piercing blue eyes, she was reminded of why she needed to leave.

"Why?" she breathed out.

It was Eric's turn to grasp for words. Why, indeed? Why did it matter so much if she left?

"I'm no prize, Mr. Northman. I'm not profound. I don't have any special talent. I'm shallow and I hold a lot of grudges. I have major issues. Major. I'm not pretty, nor nice, nor smart. And it's pretty obvious I'm not rich. So, why, Mr. Northman?" she asked. "Why are you being so nice to me when I've been nothing but a bitch to you?"

"You're selling yourself short, Miss Stackhouse," Eric replied after a while. "You are so much better than that."

"I'm not. I've learned a long time ago that if you're not cool nor pretty nor rich, you're practically a nobody. That's what I am. I'm a nobody. And I like it that way because I don't like the attention. With attention comes expectation. And I'm not sure I can meet anyone's expectation," she kept on.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, vexed at how she regarded herself so low.

"This is me laying my cards on the table. Now it's your turn. Because if you want me to stay I wanna know why. I wanna know that I'm not just a puzzle you want to solve."

Nothing had prepared her for what he did next.

Eric wrapped his arm around her waist the same time his other hand grabbed her by the hair and pulled her closer before he latched onto her mouth with his. Her lips parted in shock as she struggled against his grasp. But Eric wasn't about to let her go yet as he tightened his hold on her. He slanted his head to get a better angle.

She must have realized her fighting was futile that she stopped struggling altogether. He knew he had to release her soon but his lips didn't want to stop as he started nibbling at her lower lip.

Then she did something that caught him completely off guard. She moaned in his mouth. _She fucking moaned_.

Eric's pants got tighter as his manhood sprung to life. Sookie, unaware of her effect on the Viking, threw her arms around his neck to pull him nearer.

'_Fuck!'_ Eric thought as he felt his erection pressing hard against his trousers. He might come even before he unzipped his fly. _'Damn fuck it, Viking, don't embarrass yourself!'_

As though she caught on to his inner struggle, she drew back from him abruptly.

She untangled her arms around his neck as she pressed her palms on his chest to push him back.

Eric let go of her as he leaned back against the door. _'What the fuck?'_

Sookie looked down on her lap as she withdrew her hands and started smoothing her ruffled hair. "You, see. Nothing special here," she said nonchalantly. She grabbed her bag from underneath her seat along with her knives' roll. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Northman. You have a safe trip. Good night."

Sookie got out of the car and sprinted toward her building before Eric Northman could digest what had just happened.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters. **

**This is a bit shorter than usual. I just got so excited that I wanted to share it ASAP. Hopefully, I won't get lambasted for this. **

**Again, a big thanks to leivasquez for the awesome banner! If you haven't checked out her wp page, then do it now. Its leivasquez . wordpress . com. Her banners are so brilliant and steamy, you won't regret it!**

**To SadieSwirl, who tried to keep my errors to a minimum. She's only human and the rest is my fault. **

**And to all who read, reviewed and alerted this fic, THANK YOU oh so much! I love, love, love y'all! I really do!**

**To everyone from the East coast, be safe from Sandy, please. **


	16. Chapter 16

_**Previously… **_

_**Sookie looked down on her lap as she withdrew her hands and started smoothing her ruffled hair. "You, see. Nothing special here," she said nonchalantly. She grabbed her bag from underneath her seat along with her knives' roll. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Northman. You have a safe trip. Good night."**_

_**Sookie got out of the car and sprinted toward her building before Eric Northman could digest what had just happened.**_

Sookie fumbled for the keys inside her gym bag. It would have been easier if her heart would just calm down a bit.

'_What the hell just happened?'_ she thought. _'Did I just make out with Eric Northman?'_

Finally she got her keys out and managed to unlock her door. She heaved a sigh of relief when she discovered Jason was not yet home. She was sure she looked like a mess and she didn't want to have to explain to her brother why. She was certain it would be a lengthy conversation and it would only end with Jason telling her 'I told you so.'

She slammed the door shut behind her. She took a few deep calming breaths. They didn't work. She went to the fridge and poured herself a cold glass of water and downed it in one gulp.

It wasn't like she hadn't been kissed before. She had her first kiss when she was eighteen during Arlene's wedding. Arlene was one of her fellow barmaids at Lafayette's. She had been married twice before until she met husband number three, Rene, who Sookie thought was beneath her friend.

But Arlene seemed so happy and content with Rene that whatever opinion Sookie had about the groom stayed at the tip of her tongue. Sookie thought that if Rene were the one who could make Arlene happy then so be it.

Back to her first kiss which was more of an assault rather than an intimate connection. It was with Rene's best man, Breandan, who was Sookie's escort in the wedding ceremony because she was the maid of honor. At the reception, Breandan was three sheets to wind even before the first toast was made. While Sookie was arranging the gifts at Lafayette's office (the reception was held at the local bar and grill), Breandan offered to help her. But after ten minutes of pretending to organize the presents he made his move. He grabbed Sookie from behind and pressed his mouth that reeked of cheap rum.

However, Breandan clearly underestimated the wrath of a virgin. Before he could stick his tongue down her throat she kicked him in his cojones so hard, Sookie doubted if he could ever spawn a child anymore.

She ran out of the room before he could get his bearings back. She bumped into Jason and he only had to take one look at his sister to know what Breandan had done, or tried to do. Jason, along with one of his pals, Hoyt, came to defend her honor as they beat Breandan black and blue until Rene rushed in to rescue his best friend. Lafayette threw Breandan out of his bar and issued a lifetime ban on the pervert.

Sookie still shuddered in disgust every time she recalled that incident. Breandan had robbed her of her first kiss and she did everything she could to block that incident out.

This time was different, though. Sure, Eric Northman didn't ask for her permission, too, but what boggled her the most was her reaction toward him.

Although, he was stronger than her, she wasn't really doing her best to fight him off. If she were totally honest with herself, she could swear that she wanted him to do it.

'_What's wrong with you, Sookie? Eric Northman? Seriously?' _

She poured herself another glass of the cool liquid and finished it just as quickly as the first one. She felt parched. Probably because of all the panting she just did in the elevator. Or maybe the butterflies dancing in a frenzied state in her belly were sucking all her body fluid. Once again, she cursed her traitorous body.

Why didn't she push him back sooner? Not only did she not break their contact quickly, she even pulled him closer. And why the hell did she have to make that moaning sound she made while his tongue was ravaging her mouth? She had no answers.

She pushed that thought away as her mind started rehashing the bizarre night she just had. She had found out Eric Northman was Fiordilatte's mystery buyer. She was almost caught in a compromising situation with her employer by her former boss. And last and definitely the weirdest and most horrifying of all, she came face to face with the man who managed to elude her for the past eleven years. To say that this was by far her most eventful night would not be enough to sum up her evening.

As she remembered her encounter with the slimy Rat, her mind inadvertently went back to Eric Northman. She was grateful that he let her talk to Mac Rattray without insisting to stay behind. She was certain her conversation was being monitored, though. She was actually counting on it. She might need someone to restrain her if she loses control and decided to off Mac Rattray herself.

It was revolting to think about it, but when Eric Northman stormed in and started pummeling the Rat to the ground, she couldn't stop herself from finding a twisted kind of pleasure from it. For a split second, she contemplated leaving Mac Rattray at the mercy of Anthony Murello. The Viking must not have ordered a hit on anyone before, but there was always a first time for everything.

She knew without a doubt, Murello's men would not think twice about putting the Rat six feet under. She shook her head to clear her head from such unchristian like thoughts. It didn't matter how horrid Mac Rattray was, no one should be able to play god but God alone.

Regardless of her efforts to keep her mind off Eric Northman, she just kept returning to that kiss. She fought the tingling sensation that ran up her spine when she thought of that one unrestrained encounter. Eric Northman could be very annoying at times but he was a hell of a kisser, Sookie thought.

She thought maybe that could be her _first_ kiss. Yes, Sookie decided, that would be her first. She dropped her bag and knives' roll at the counter before she rested her elbows on top of her bag as she cradled her face with her hands.

She cursed the damn insects that were still inside her gut. At least they mellowed down a bit and the fluttering weren't as crazy anymore. She wondered what Eric Northman might have thought of their liplock. She could bet all her fingers that he didn't become that great at it by practicing with a peach. How many lips had he tasted, she wondered.

'_Dog burn it! Sookie Stackhouse, stop daydreaming!'_ Sookie screamed mentally at herself. She had more exigent and critical things to think about and the first one on the list was locating Long Shadow.

She had debated whether to tell Jason what she had learned tonight. Jason was the only person she could trust wholly and blindly. She glanced at the clock beside the sofa. It was ten minutes before two in the morning. Her third-floor flat had a clear view of the street outside so she went beside the window to peek.

But as she swept the threadbare curtain with her hand, she was startled to see the Viking's silver BMW still parked at the exact place it had been since she left.

'_Why is he still here?'_ she thought.

As though answering her query, someone knocked at her door.

Sookie gulped as she slowly tread the path toward the door. She kept her footsteps light so whoever was at the other side of the door wouldn't be able to detect her approach.

'_Please be Jason. Please be Jason,'_ she chanted in her head. But she had a feeling, it wouldn't be her brother. He had his set of keys and he was a loud knocker. She tiptoed as she peeked at the peephole. _'Damn!'_

It was Eric Northman. He was looking down at his shoes with his hand at the doorframe.

'_What does he want now?'_ she thought. _'He's like the freaking Beetlejuice!'_ She recalled the old movie she had watched where Michael Keaton, who played the infamous Beetlejuice, would appear if someone said his name three times.

'_Maybe he'll think I'm already sleeping. For all he knew, I could be a heavy sleeper.'_

She turned around and leaned her back against the door, willing him to go away.

"I can see your shadow from here, Miss Stackhouse. Now, quit being a twelve-year-old and open the door," he muttered with a touch of impatience.

Sookie let out an exasperated huff before she straightened her shirt and reached for the knob. She put on her phony smile before she swung the door open.

Eric Northman, in all his devilish allure, looked up and met her eyes.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon, Mr. Northman," she said as calmly as could. Her heart pounded unusually fast against her chest as she took in his appearance. _'Shit! Shit! Shit! Why does he have to look like a freakin' celebrity?'_

Eric didn't utter a word as he stared at her through his smoldering blue eyes.

"What? Did you forget something?" she asked when he didn't say anything back.

"Yes," he replied. Then in one swift motion he grabbed her by the back of her neck before he locked his lips with hers.

He tilted his head to one side as his tongue licked her bottom lip as though asking for permission to enter. Sookie was caught off guard and for a fleeting second she thought of hitting him in the groin with her knee. But her hands had another idea as she clamped them to his shoulder to gain more leverage.

Eric groaned in her mouth as she tightened her hold on him. Without breaking their contact, he pushed her inside her flat before he shut the door with his foot. His hands proved to be as adept as his lips as they started moving fluidly against her back. His long arm enveloped her waist as he tugged her body closer to his.

Sookie slanted her head so he would not have to bend so low to reach her lips. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and Sookie sighed involuntarily from the raw passion in his movement.

A low guttural growl escaped his lips as he pierced her mouth with his tongue.

She was obviously inexperienced in the art of kissing but with Eric's skills all she needed to do was follow his lead. She was gasping for breath when he finally pulled his lips from hers. He rested his forehead to her temple. His breath was as ragged as hers and for a few seconds they just stayed in that position with their gazes locked together.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me much longer," he hushed as he ran the pad of his thumb against her cheek.

The hint of arrogance in his tone pulled Sookie out of her dazed trance. She wriggled out of his grasp as she took a few steps back. Eric knotted his brows as he gaped at her, surprised at her sudden detachment.

"So that's it, isn't it? You just wanted to know if you can submit me to your will," she spat out. Cold rage rising from her chest smashing the flapping butterflies in her tummy into smithereens. "Well hats off to you, Mr. Northman." She tipped an imaginary hat before she bowed her head. "Congratulations! You managed to make me look like an idiot!"

Eric felt his blood shoot up in his head. She reverted to her snarky self and he didn't know what he did to initiate such a setback.

"Get out of my house!" Sookie yelled as she pointed at the door. "Get. Out."

Eric clenched his jaw as he kept his eyes trained on her. "No," he said evenly.

"Get out or I will call the cops." Her stance was rigid as she stared him down.

"Go ahead. Call the cops," he replied with cool nonchalance.

She gritted her teeth when he refused to move. After a long pause, she snorted. "Why should I even bother? I bet you've greased enough palms in the force that you would be able to twist this situation against me. I shouldn't be surprised at all if I end up in jail instead of you. Heaven forbid Eric Northman will see the inside of a cell. One that's not his own."

"Why do you keep fighting me?" he asked in frustration. "I know you want me. You want _this_. Why are you denying yourself? Because you're too proud to admit you want me as bad as I want you?" He was on the verge of losing his temper with her as he kept his voice low.

Sookie let out a mocking laugh. "Wow! Freaking wow! Hey, Mr. Northman, Narcissus called, he wants his personality back!"

Eric didn't find any humor in her remark. He stepped closer to her, his expression dark and serious. "Stop toying with me, Miss Stackhouse. Just a few minutes ago you seem to be enjoying yourself. Don't even try to deny it. And when I called you out, you started acting like a fucking prude! What is up with your vestal virgin act? Afraid you'd blow your cover and reveal that you're a hot-blooded woman just like everybody else?"

Sookie didn't need to think twice as the heel of her palm connected with his cheek. "I am not one of your whores!"

Eric wasn't expecting her reaction. He touched the place where her palm landed and felt the skin tingle and throb under his hand. He didn't mean it that way. He had never regarded her so low, no matter how badly she had treated him. But somehow that was how his words sounded to her.

"I'm not one of your conquests. Some slut you can just jot down in your little black book," she said, her voice trembled with so much animosity.

"I never said you were," he muttered under his breath. "But if that's what you think I meant then maybe there's some truth to it."

'_Way to make it worse, asshole!'_ Eric thought grimly. But he wasn't about to take his words back. Mea culpa was a rare thing for the Viking and he wasn't about to spring one now.

Sookie shook her head in derision. "So this is how you lure your women? By calling them sluts? It's no wonder they never stayed with you for a long time."

She was not kidding when she told him that she had read about him in national magazines. From the boring financial periodicals up to the scandalous gossip glossies she would find sprawled at Lafayette's office. Eric was in a number of them, always with a new eye candy in his arms. Be it frolicking at a luxury yacht at Saint-Tropez, or skiing in Aspen Snowmass or just plain making out at one of the famed foyers of the Riviera.

In every article he was always with a new girl. He was like a goddamn celebrity who never repeated clothes. Only in his case, he was never seen with the same woman twice.

Eric wanted to set the record straight with her that it was _his_ choice that women never lingered for a long time. But he was too infuriated with her at that point that he didn't want to waste his breath explaining himself anymore. She was far too stubborn to listen anyway, so what was the point, really.

He threw another glare in her direction before he made his way to the door. Without looking back at her he spoke with finality in his tone. "Think whatever the fuck you want to think. I'm done."

He never waited for another one of her comebacks as he opened the door and stomped out. The door slammed loudly after him and Sookie cringed by the noise before her body went limp.

She slumped onto the sofa and pulled her knees to her chin. For a long time she only stared at the door. She wasn't sure if she was willing it to burst open or stay shut.

The minutes went on forever. After she was certain she was no longer trembling, she gathered herself up, locked the door and went to the bathroom. She stood under the shower until the water became freezing cold. She dried herself and put on her old sweats and pajama bottoms. She slid under the sheets and for a long time she kept her gaze at the ceiling.

She didn't even get up when she heard the door unlock at half past three. She could tell it was Jason by the way her brother dragged his feet outside her bedroom. He was probably drunk as a skunk. She heard Alcide follow Jason inside the apartment.

Alcide was really a great pal - not only to Jason but to her, too. But try as she might, she couldn't force herself to get up and greet him so she pulled the blanket over her head and pretended not to hear the soft knocks on her door.

_'Not now, Alcide,'_ she pleaded internally. She couldn't face her friend. Not when every nerve in her body was screaming for _him_.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric didn't know how he got back to the North after he left _her_ place, fuming like a ball of fire. He went straight to the bar at the casino area and asked for an ice pack to put on his sore knuckles.

The barmaid rushed to his side with a blue ice gel pack, along with his usual drink. _'Fuck this! Fuck her!'_

The floor manager saw Eric walk in and alerted Pam, who was busy checking the turnout for the night.

Pam wasn't expecting Eric to make an appearance at the casino. When he called her up after the pyro show at Fiordilatte to stall the staff, she knew she wouldn't see him for the rest of the night.

She already came up with a bunch of materials to tease him with but judging by the look on his face, she knew it would not bode well for her to pester the Viking.

Eric stayed at his private lounge and Pam immediately figured out what he was trying to do. The only reason Eric would get his drink from the bar was to pick up his fuck for the night.

From her calculations, it had been four days since Eric got laid, which was like a year for the Viking with his insatiable dick. And the reason for his abstinence was not a mystery to Pam, either.

It was because of one Sookie Stackhouse.

If Eric was trying to score tonight, then things had taken a turn for the worst with Sookie, Pam deduced.

She cursed under her breath as she watched the Viking's eyes roam the high stakes area with burning intensity.

'_Dammit!'_ she cursed. She was going to lose a bet.

In accordance with the tradition, Pam initiated the usual wager. But because Sookie was different from the Viking's previous lovers, the betting was kept within Eric's inner circle. The chosen few who knew of _her_ existence.

Pam had kept her usual bet of one week for two hundred. Roman, always the pessimist in Eric's small circle of trust, put in another two hundred four days or less. It wasn't because the Greek head of security wasn't a fan of Miss Stackhouse. It was mainly because he didn't believe in love and all that shit at all.

It was understandable because in Roman's line of work, where he lived and breathed in violence, he did not have time to romanticize anything. And also because he was jilted by his lover, Salome, who had cheated on him with his brother when he was sent to Iraq.

If Eric had decided to throw in the towel in his irrational pursuit of Miss Stackhouse then it meant Pam would lose to Roman.

The good news, however, was that she wouldn't be the biggest loser. Marco and Sam were.

Sam, who was as bigger wuss than he was a nerd, thought that Eric was in it for a long haul. So after spending one day with the hick at Area 51, he doubled Pam and Roman's two hundred apiece bet and put in four hundred bucks that the Southern Belle would be with the Viking for at least a year.

Marco, however, proved to be more hopeless than the geeky Hawk as he placed a grand for five years. Pam and Roman chided him for such a ludicrous notion but Marco shrugged off their criticisms, saying that he was willing to bet a decade but he didn't think Eric would live that long with so many targets aimed at his back.

To finalize the winner, Pam needed to confirm her suspicions. This had been a pretty easy task before, because the Viking didn't take their wagers seriously and sometimes he would even offer to make the announcement to his friends. But judging by how he had acted these past few days and the grim expression on his face, she knew she had to tread dangerous terrain delicately.

She reached his side and took the chair across from him. The barmaid came and placed a dry martini cocktail on the table in front of her as soon as she sat down. The barmaid took Eric's empty glass and replaced it with another order of scotch. The hostess asked if he wanted a new ice pack for his hand and Eric declined with a slight shake of his head.

"Let me guess, that one's courtesy of Big Foot?" Pam asked casually as she studied Eric's bruise on his right hand.

Eric shook his head as he placed the ice pack on top of the table. He took a sip of his drink before he turned his gaze back to the poker area. The alcohol was starting to work its magic. He was still on edge but he wasn't seething anymore. Ironically, the liquor that was supposed to fog his judgement was making him realize how he overplayed his card with _her_.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Pam asked carefully before she popped an olive in her mouth that came with her cocktail.

Eric didn't take his eyes off the gaming area as he spoke. "You know what's the biggest problem of a gambler, Pam?"

Pam didn't know where this conversation was heading but since he was being so glum, the least she could do was humor him. "What?" she asked.

"A gambler doesn't know when to quit. He's unstoppable when he's winning, of course. But when he starts losing, that's when a gambler becomes more consumed with the desire to win. Self-control's the first one to go out the window."

Pam remained quiet. It was one of those conversations where her input was not needed.

"I forgot the first rule in gaming," Eric continued. "You have to know your opponent before engaging _her_ in a battle." He had that faraway look in his eyes the she only got to see when he had admitted defeat. She only saw that look in him once - when Godric's illness finally won and the patriarch of the North succumbed to death.

After a long stretch of nothing but pregnant silence, Eric stood up from his chair and started buttoning his blazer.

"I'll be busy in the next couple of days so I won't be around so much. Call our contractors and suppliers, I want to see the blueprint for the renovation of the Regent before Stan's farewell gala next week. Write Marco a check for his assistance at the opening. Tell him he's free to go back to LA but if he wants to stay in Vegas a little longer, feel free to do so. And great job at Fiordilatte, Pam. You should get some rest. It's been a long night."

Eric cast another nostalgic look at the poker tables before he excused himself and went straight to private lifts that took him straight to his suite. He was too damn tired.

Little did Pam know that Eric wasn't scouting for a night cap at the poker area. He was trying to picture _her_ in one of those tables, where he had first laid eyes on _her_.

He sighed as he allowed himself to think of _her_ one last time before he repressed all things that reminded him of the blonde that made him question everything he knew and stood for all these years.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters. **

**WAIT! Before you start hurling rotten fruits my way, hear me out first. I've realized Eric and Sookie hadn't showed different sides of their personalities yet. Eric is a selfish person and Sookie is very cynical. Thank you, dear readers, for pointing them out. So let them grow up a bit first. I promise they will be together soon. I want some lemons, too, y'know! **

**I know this may be too angst-y for some and for that I apologize. I just can't help it! So there… and before you pick that moldy tomato up, let me just say one more thing… (*eys speeds off to write the next chapter*)**


	17. Chapter 17

Pam waltzed inside Eric's office a couple of hours after noon. She found him busily tapping the keys on his laptop. He didn't look up when she entered which meant his mood hadn't improved overnight.

"The contractors are here. Shall I send them in?" Pam asked as she placed the ledger that held all their revenue along with bills and contracts that required his signature on his table.

Eric didn't pause from typing as he nodded his assent. He needed a lot of distraction today.

"And Jake Purifoy called. He's asking for a meeting later. He said you were expecting him?"

This time Eric pried his eyes away from his laptop as his eyes became pensive. "Yes. Return his call and tell him I'll meet him in a couple of hours," he replied.

Pam nodded before she made her way to the door.

"Pam, can you drop by Fiordilatte later. Miss…" he paused as if the words got stuck in his throat. "…Stackhouse gave me her verbal resignation last night. Tend to it. Have Miriam nullify her contract so the proceedings would go without a hitch. And make sure she gets paid duly."

"As you wish," Pam replied curtly before she exited the door. She pulled her cellphone out and started dialling Marco's number.

* * *

**E/S**

The door leading to the dining room from the kitchen swung open for the hundredth time since noon and Sookie would still look up from her station to check if it were _him_. And each time her heart would drop when it turned out it wasn't _him_.

Sleep eluded her last night and when the sun peeked at the horizon she finally gave up on sleep and filled her system with enough caffeine to last her the day. She woke Jason up and said her goodbye to her brother in case she couldn't make it back before he left for the airport for his evening flight.

A very hung over Jason managed to pry his flaccid limbs off the couch to give her a hug. She gave him two grand – all their winnings from the Venetian - for him to pay the bills and to send to Long Shadow for their monthly installment. Sookie didn't tell Jason about Long Shadow. Not yet, she told herself. Not until she had enough information about the sonofabitch who could or could not be the man who killed their father.

She wrote Alcide a note, thanking her friend for everything he had done for her and her sibling. She promised to give him a call soon. She kept the note brief and concise and put it in the counter beside Jason's duffel bag.

While she laid in bed, willing her body to succumb to a little respite, she had made a decision. She would stay in Vegas. She would like to stay at Fiordilatte, but if Eric Northman would forbid her, then she would not grovel. She didn't go to Vegas to be treated like a lowlife. She had enough people judging her and her family in Bon Temps to suffer fools like Eric Northman in Vegas as well.

She started her job search at the small-time casinos. She didn't have sufficient education to apply for white-collar jobs but she knew enough about gambling and dealing cards to apply for a dealer or barmaid. It was stated in her contract in Fiordilatte that she could not work in any other food establishment because of conflict of interest and because her status in the restaurant was still indefinite she would try the safer route.

She was turned down by the three small-scale casinos immediately due to her inexperience. She was already downtrodden when she went to the Mandalay Bay. She had made copies of the _resume _she gave Tara when she applied to Fiordilatte.

The hiring manager was cordial and accommodating enough. The manager took a good ten minutes to run her name in the system for any previous record. Her surname raised a red flag and she was instantly ushered into another room which was more intimidating than the first. It wasn't an interrogation cell like the one at the North but it sure felt like one. Then a middle-aged man who looked like he was of Latin-American descent emerged inside in his crisp business suit.

He introduced himself as Victor Madden and asked Sookie if she were in any way related to the late Corbett Stackhouse. At the mention of her father's name, Sookie instantly became rigid as a cold chill ran up her spine. They had her _resume_. They must have known for a fact that Corbett was her father, and yet they still wanted her to confirm it which meant Corbett was a person of interest to them. After a few seconds of contemplation, she put on her fake smile and forced herself to look sheepish. She nodded her head and answered truthfully.

She felt like she was under the microscope with his deep, narrow eyes. She kept her innocent façade as she kept her gaze shifting from her hands on the table to the man across from her. She might have seemed like a naïve lost girl, who had no idea what she was getting into but inside her mind, she was trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Could Victor Madden be connected to Long Shadow somehow? Was this the casino where her father lost everything? Damn, she wanted answers.

Finally, Victor relaxed his stance and leaned on his chair. He told Sookie that they would be willing to hire her if she could provide someone from Vegas who would be willing to give her character reference since her only recommendation came from her former employer Lafayette Reynolds in Louisiana. He also asked for her permission to do a comprehensive background check on her. It was mandatory for applying for a gaming license and if she didn't have any previous criminal record there would nothing to be worried about, he said. He asked for her contact number to let her know how their proceedings worked out and Sookie, not wanting to compromise her ruse, gave Fiordilatte's office number.

Sookie kept her sickly sweet smile as she thanked Victor Madden for his time. Madden gave her a lingering look that didn't sit well with Sookie but she kept her mouth shut as she made her way out of the Mandalay.

It was almost noon when she got to Fiordilatte and lunch shift was in full swing. Selah barely paid her any attention when she went in and put on her uniform. She wasn't supposed to be there until 4pm for the dinner service but because she didn't have anywhere else to go, she decided to wait for Eric Northman at the restaurant, if he ever decided to show up after the disaster that was last night.

She couldn't figure out how Eric Northman could stir so many strong emotions in her. With him it was a constant roller coaster ride. He could be so manipulative that would send her reeling with rage one minute then he would do something unexpected and seemingly selfless and Sookie would be elated and grateful, verging on lustful. But then, as if he were legally obliged to irritate her, he would say something appalling and she would be seething again. All in under an hour.

He was right. It was very tedious. Their cat-and-mouse game was toxic.

Sookie let out a heavy sigh as she helped Terry scale the salmon. She had already divulged to Terry and Holly about her impromptu resignation last night. She skipped the part about the Rat and whatever happened after that. She then asked Holly if she could stay with her in case the boss wouldn't accept her apology.

- Yes, she would apologize. She had realized while she was making her way to the restaurant that she had been very impulsive and imprudent for quitting her job without any safety net to fall back to. She would swallow her pride and try to ask Eric Northman to disregard her resignation. In return she would do her darndest to be professional and not be so hostile anymore. She also included in her speech that she would like to request that he would also forget whatever transpired last night between them so that they could work like adults and start over as employer and employee.-

Her prepared speech sounded good in her head. If only she could write down some keywords on an index card so she wouldn't miss a word. Eric Northman had an ability to make her lose her focus.

It was half past two in the afternoon and the customers were dwindling down. The reviews from last night's event must have been the culprit for the sudden downpour of diners. Sookie's extra set of hands were greatly appreciated earlier. She was cleaning the fish station of scales and fish entrails when the door swung open from the dining hall again. Sookie was up to her elbows in fish guts and she was sure her face was riddled with scales that she didn't have to time to look up this time.

She was scrubbing her arms when she felt someone standing behind her. She swiveled and came face-to-face with the bored looking Pam Ravenscroft in her couture red business suit. Red must be Pam's favorite color, it suited her, Sookie thought.

"Office. Now," Pam ordered Sookie before she marched toward the office.

Sookie wiped her arms dry with the cloth that hung under her apron belt, before she dutifully followed Pam, dodging the curious looks from Selah and her other coworkers. Holly gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she walked past her. Sookie felt like she was on her way to the principal's office but once she caught the ghost of a smile on Selah's lips, Sookie reconsidered her analogy and decided for the man who was walking toward the electric chair while Selah was chanting 'dead man walking.'

Sookie repressed a shudder when she closed the door behind her. Pam went to sit behind the desk and pointed at the chair across from her. Sookie took her apron off and folded it under her arm before she sat down.

"I was told, you've given a verbal resignation last night to Mr. Northman?" Pam said in a clinical tone.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then what are you still doing outside helping the crew?" Pam asked with raised eyebrow.

"I was actually waiting for Mr. Northman. I would like to apologize for my behavior last night and was going to ask if I could have my job back."

There was a slight shift on Pam's apathetic face and Sookie couldn't quite place it. Pam drummed her nails on the table as she studied Sookie.

Sookie kept her features remorseful and solemn as she waited for the verdict. It was one of those times when she despised being poor that she had to compromise her principle because she had no luxury to be finicky.

"What happened last night?" Pam asked after a while. She was still wearing her mask of apathy but the tiny twinkle in her eyes betrayed her.

'_Ugh! Didn't he tell you yet? Or do you just wanna gossip about it!'_ Sookie thought exasperatedly. Last night was five levels of awkward and seven layers of awful and she didn't want to relive it again by telling Pam about it.

"I thought Mr. Northman already told you, ma'am." The ma'am was an afterthought to mask the grating annoyance in her tone.

"He didn't. He only told me that you resigned and that I shouldn't give you hell about it. Even though we have a contract that forbids you to quit out of sheer whimsy the same way Eric can't fire you without solid ground."

'_Well, I'll be…'_ Sookie thought stunned by the fact that Eric Northman ordered somebody to cut her some slack. She had actually considered the contract. That was her last bargaining chip. If he decided to terminate her, she would bring out the signed agreement that was Tara's last act of kindness toward Sookie.

"He kissed me," Sookie blurted. She didn't want to share that piece of information to anybody but she felt the need to defend herself against Pam's biting remark.

Pam's lips hitched to a smirk before she leaned forward. "Oh? And I think it's safe to assume that you didn't like it?"

"Of course, I didn't!" Sookie retorted defensively. _'Damn, that was overly defensive!'_

Pam's smirk curled into a full smile. "So he assaulted you? Is that it? Would you like to file a complaint? I may work for Eric but I'm a woman too and I don't tolerate sexual harassment in my place of employment."

Sookie jerked backward in her chair as she discerned what Pam was implying. Did he force himself on her? In some aspect yes, but she wouldn't call it an assault. If she takes Pam's advice and files a formal complaint, there was a possibility that she could be compensated generously to keep such a scandalous thing from leaking and wrecking the Viking's oh-so immaculate reputation.

Then as though someone had knocked her head with a coconut, her moment of guile left her. She would not do that to him. That kiss was special. At least to her. It was the time when she threw caution to the wind and hoped the moment wouldn't end. It was the time when she was just a girl and he was only a boy. Not the bitch and the bastard like they were. She might not like Eric Northman, but he wasn't a sex offender. He _wasn't_.

Sookie shook her head and dropped her gaze to her lap. She noticed that she had missed a few scales right before her elbow.

Pam became quiet for a good minute before she spoke again. "What time is your shift?"

Sookie drew her eyebrows in confusion. Did that mean she could keep her job? "4pm."

Pam stood up from her chair and grabbed her purse from the table. "Good. You still have more than an hour before your shift starts. Come with me."

Sookie scrambled off her seat as she followed Pam outside. She barely had time to get her messenger bag above her station as she dashed toward the back door to go after the leggy blonde. Holly and Terry threw her puzzling looks and Sookie just shrugged before she became scarce.

* * *

**E/S**

Pam was also a daredevil behind the wheels as they sped off the intersection at the Flamingo road. Sookie watched Pam as they drove off to an unknown location. _'Shit! Why did I get into the car with her? Good job, Sookie! What a freaking idiot you are!'_

Sookie was debating whether to ask Pam where they were heading but when she finally mustered enough courage to inquire, Pam was already making her way inside a luxurious estate before she slowed down to park at a lot beside a sprawling Victorian manor.

At first Sookie thought it was where Eric Northman or Pam Ravenscroft lived but as she looked around she could see at least ten high-end cars that varied too greatly to belong to one owner.

"Where are we?" Sookie finally found her voice.

Pam was applying fiery red lipstick and smoothing the top of her perfectly styled French twist while she stared at her reflection through the rearview mirror.

"Red Cavern. It's a high-class brothel," said Pam in a detached tone as though she was telling Sookie that they were in a supermarket where they would shop for artichokes.

Sookie's eyes widened in surprise as she glanced at the mansion then back to Pam. "Wh-what? Why?" she stuttered. She couldn't quite wrap the idea in her head that Pam Ravenscroft had brought her to a brothel. Would she show Sookie other job opportunities so she wouldn't work at Fiordilatte anymore?

Pam let out an amused huff. "Because your indecisiveness is quite frustrating."

"What?"

"I can tell that you're mad. You're angry at your situation and you feel like you're being left with no choice," Pam replied without a hint of enthusiasm in her voice. "You're probably mad at Eric, too. Because let's face it, he can be a child sometimes."

Sookie bit her lip as she realized she was not a very good liar after all. It was either Pam was very good at deciphering her or she was losing her skill to bluff. Either way, she wasn't happy.

"I brought you here because I want you to see that yours is not the worst kind of hell," Pam continued.

That struck a chord in Sookie. Pam had no idea what she was talking about. She didn't know the kind of hell Sookie had been thrown into. "You can't say that. You don't know _anything_ about me," she said between her teeth.

"Your father was a gambler who left you with a ton of debt. Your mother died in a car accident when you were seven. And your grandmother died of a heart condition three years ago," Pam said without batting an eyelash.

Sookie's expression changed from shocked to livid.

"Before you go all Amazon on me, it's my job to keep tabs on everybody who worked for Eric. How do you think Eric found out about that scumbag swindler for you? By magic? We've already told you, Sookie, we have eyes everywhere."

Sookie was still enraged. She could not believe Eric Northman would invade her privacy like that.

As though Pam had read her thoughts, she spoke again. "You have forfeited your right to privacy the minute you walked in the North with Bill Compton, Sookie."

Sookie didn't know who to hate more, Pam, Eric or Bill. She decided she loathed them all. She reached for seatbelt and started unbuckling it.

Pam seemed unperturbed by Sookie's attempt for departure as she checked her image on the mirror. "How do you think you're going to get out of this place? Do you think you can simply walk out? I told you, this is fucking Hotel California. It can be heaven or hell."

Sookie grunted loudly. She was sick of getting undermined. She decided that she would rather take her chance against whoever was manning this damn place rather than get stuck with the Devil who wore Prada. She got out of the car and sprinted toward the iron gates located at the far end of a vast and magnificently manicured garden that had swan topiaries on its isles. She was almost at the gates! Just a few more steps.

But before she could take another fleeting leap, two giant men stepped in front of her with shotguns pointed at her. Her hands shot up in the air instantly. She was still gasping for breath when she heard Pam's heels as they hit the paved driveway.

"Put those down. She's my guest," Pam told the guards offhandedly. And just like that they loosened their grip on their weapons and the guns that hung around their shoulders with a strap, fell to their sides. Pam took Sookie's elbow and pivoted her toward the mansion.

They walked in silence as Sookie tried to catch her breath and steady her heartbeat. They reached the two enormous wooden doors, and Sookie watched Pam as she buzzed in. Pam looked up at the corner of the ceiling as she uttered a four-digit code. It must be a password. Of course, there would be a password, didn't they all, Sookie though sarcastically as she recalled her trip with Eric Northman at Murello's hideaway.

Her epiphany came like an eight-wheeler truck speeding straight toward her on black ice. In less than 24 hours, she had been made privy to all sorts of organized crimes. She was sure Murello wasn't making a living by selling balloons just like Mr. Fredrickson who looked a hell of a lot like him. And now, prostitution? Would she be able to make it out of this underworld alive? Or should she resign to a similar fate as her father?

The door creaked open and a woman, with raven-black hair, gray eyes and a stunning physique that was obvious through her tight leather corset and black leather pants, emerged. She was like Catwoman only more slutty.

She gave Pam two air kisses on the cheek before she turned to Sookie. "Pamela, she smells fishy. I mean that literally."

"Don't complain. She rode with me. I had to open my windows to air out the wet market smell."

Sookie didn't think she could shrink any smaller, but she did. But she bit back her tongue, afraid that one wrong word and the guards would storm in again and shower her with bullets.

Pam and the woman stepped inside and Sookie followed meekly. They went up an elaborate staircase and Sookie could see five widely separated doors with numbers on them. There was another spiral staircase but it was more modern, unlike the carved wooden one by the entrance that reminded Sookie of the one on the Titanic ship.

They went up and there were two doors that only had names on them, Red and Black. The woman led Pam to the Red door and Sookie followed. The woman did not get inside, though, as she shut the door before her.

There was a huge red four-poster bed in the middle of the room and there was a 60-inch plasma TV attached on the wall. Pam grabbed the remote and pressed another set of numbers and the screen sprung to life. It was porn.

'_How lovely,'_ Sookie thought as she looked away from the screen. The worst part was it was the disgusting kind of pornography. The demeaning kind where a woman's hands and feet were bound apart from each other while a soft ball was jammed in her mouth to keep her from screaming as a middle-aged man with leather mask would whip her while asking 'Who is your master?'

Sookie had had enough as she leaned her back against the door and pinched her eyes shut. "What the fuck do you want?" she growled at Pam. "This is sick. _You're_ sick!"

"No, Sookie. _They're_ sick. _He's_ the degenerate one," Pam pointed at the man on the screen. "He gets off by deluding himself he actually has power. Do you think she likes being lashed? Do you think she wants to not be able to scream for help? What do you think is their safe word, Sookie?"

Sookie was taken aback by the animosity in Pam's tone. It was the first time the intimidating woman had showed her that much emotion.

"They. Don't. Have one! All she can do is wait for him to cum and hope to whoever fuck is listening that he doesn't kill her in the process." Pam didn't take her eyes off the screen as she spat her words out.

Sookie gaped at Pam. The pain and hatred in Pam's eyes as she stared at the screen were enough for Sookie to put everything together. Sookie finally realized why she was there.

Pam was one of them - one of the women who had no choice but to surrender every sense of control to the man with the whip. She stared at Pam and she could see myriad emotions flashed through the tall blonde's features.

"How did you get out?" Sookie breathed out, cautious.

Pam was trying hard not to blink because the tears that were pooling in her eyes would fall. She swallowed thickly before she replied. "Eric."

Sookie went beside Pam as she yanked the remote from her shaking hand. Sookie fumbled through the buttons a number of times before she finally found the one that would turn the television off.

Pam was still trembling as she fished for something inside her purse to wipe her tears.

Sookie grabbed a small handkerchief from her jeans pocket and handed it to Pam. "If you don't mind the fishy smell," she offered Pam a meek smile.

Pam grimaced but took the hanky anyway. She carefully dabbed the side of her eyes so her mascara wouldn't leave a disgusting goop.

Sookie tugged Pam by her elbow as they sat on the edge of the soft red bed. She gave Pam time to collect herself all the while thinking the amount of dried sperm she was sitting on.

The minutes went on for like forever. Then finally, Pam took a deep breath before she started telling Sookie how she ended up in a brothel and how she escaped the hellhole.

Turned out Pam was from a very opulent family in San Francisco. Her parents were antiquated and snooty and they wanted Pam to marry into a family of old money to keep their line pristine. She had watched as her older sister was forced into engagement at a young age of sixteen. So when Pam hit that prime age she cashed all her money from her accounts and ran away from San Francisco.

She skipped the country and went to Japan. Her parents would never look for her there. She got tangled with a very prominent Yakuza in Tokyo and after a year of tolerating his many sexual quirks. She fled again and went back to the US. She stayed at a friend's house in Los Angeles. At first she loved everything California. But then she found the thrill of illegal drugs and that was when she started spiraling down.

Without any more cash to finance her addiction, she had to go and look for an occupation. Because she was an addict she couldn't hold a job for more than three days. Then she met Madame Calisto in one of the exclusive bars she and her friends frequented. One thing led to another, and the next thing she knew, she was a submissive in Madame Calisto's Red Cavern in Las Vegas.

For a year she had endured all kinds of beating that only the demented minds of emasculated men could concoct. It was probably the reason why Pam reconsidered her sexual orientation.

Pam had been a frequent flyer at the local hospital and she would always be questioned because of her bruises. Madame Calisto had sent a lot of women in the emergency room for much worse. Three actually died and the legal battle was pure horror for the governess. That was when Madame Calisto decided to employ a private physician that would make house calls at ungodly hours.

A year and six months later, Pam was promoted to be the dominant while some new recruits would be the new subs. Pam was more wired to Vicodin and coke than she was before she entered the brothel. She needed the high to numb every nerve in her body.

Then came Eric Northman.

He wasn't the BDSM kind of guy, really. It was his lover at that time. Pam forgot the bitch's name. Eric couldn't bring himself to flog a girl but his partner was practically begging for it, it was embarrassing. He finally ceded and decided to hire one of the doms to be his proxy.

As luck would have it, Pam was Eric's companion's dom. He was given the choice to watch inside the Red room, which apparently was also called the Fish Eye – where clients who craved the power of voyeurism could peek through a specific room - but the Viking declined.

It wasn't his thing. He had enough power in his hands and he didn't need to hold a flogger to stress that.

Pam was allowed to disclose the specifics of her routine to Eric to ensure that his significant other would not be harmed more than she desired. Pam was a candid observer and she would always give Eric a straight answer. Her dry humor also added to her charisma and Eric and Pam instantly hit it off.

On Eric's third visit, Pam wasn't in the Cavern. After much snooping from her _associates, _Eric found out she was in a critical condition after having been beaten to an inch of her life while on her way to a spa. She had been cornered by one of her previous customers who wasn't satisfied with her service. It appeared that Pam might have gone too far that the patron felt the need to re-establish his masculinity over the dominatrix.

The Viking visited Pam and at that moment he decided that it was time to buy her freedom. Although Eric had enough monetary resources to pay off Madame Calisto, he didn't have the influence to actually cut a deal with the governess. So he went to his father. Eric didn't ask Godric for many favors, so when the young Northman went to Godric for help, he didn't need to ask why. Godric just did.

By the time Pam was stable enough to be discharged, she was transferred to a rehab facility in New York to get clean. It took almost a year for Pam to fully recover physically and mentally. Eric would check up on her doctors but would not talk to her personally. He wasn't much of a talker, really. And he didn't want Pam to feel like she _owed_ him.

Exactly one year later, Pam came back to Nevada to ask Eric for another favor. She wanted the man who almost killed her. Godric didn't concur with Pam but used his connection nevertheless to track down the assailant. It wasn't difficult since the man was still a regular at Madame Calisto's. Pam didn't go into so much detail as to how she had exacted her revenge. She only told Sookie that the man was given the Northman treatment sans the first step. Sookie had to suppress a shiver as she took in Pam's murderous look while the leggy blonde recalled her attacker.

Sookie knew from experience how tough it was to recall a very painful memory and it mystified her why Pam would share something so personal and disconcerting to her when she was basically a stranger.

They were back in Fiordilatte with barely a few minutes to spare before Sookie's shift starts. She had been rendered speechless by Pam's revelation. It was different from Sam Merlotte and Marco Alfonso's sob stories. This one was more riveting, disturbing and enlightening for the Southern Belle.

Pam was also silent for the rest of the trip. She was probably giving Sookie time to assimilate what she gathered from their little field trip.

Pam parked the car at the lot for employees' only but didn't turn off the engine, which meant she didn't intend to go in the restaurant anymore and that she was merely dropping off Sookie.

Before Sookie could change her mind, she lunged toward Pam and hugged her. First she was hesitant and careful. Afraid Pam would push her back. Then when she felt Pam's hand on her shoulder, she tightened her hold on the seemingly cold-hearted blonde. "I will never betray your trust. I swear it," Sookie hushed with genuine conviction.

Pam inhaled sharply and patted Sookie's back twice. "There, there. I'm going to smell like a fucking sardine. I doubt even Chanel No. 5 will be able to mask this."

Sookie let out a sound that was a cross between a snort and a giggle before she drew back from the blank-faced Pam.

"I'm not worried you're going to blab about it to your gossipmonger friends. And if you do, I can always find a way to shut your trap," Pam said grimly. And for a fleeting second Sookie felt very nervous. Then a slight tug on the side of Pam's lips revealed her mirth. "You're missing the moral of this story, Sookie."

Sookie dropped her gaze to her lap. "I got it. Eric Northman's a freaking saint," she said dryly.

"Oh, fuck no! Eric was no saint. My small toe is more pious than he is. What I'm trying to tell you is that, while Eric is no Dalai Lama, he isn't Stalin either. He's more Sun Tzu. You know Sun Tzu?"

"'Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.' It's like the rule of thumb in bluffing," Sookie quipped with a shrug. She had read The Art of War five times since she was in high school.

"Exactly," Pam pointed seemingly impressed. "But my point, Sookie, is that there are worse monsters in the world. Especially in this city. While I get it that you're mad at the world because you feel wronged at every turn, you must not let anger rule your life. Live a little. Let other people help you. Everyone needs someone. I'm not saying you should let your guard down with Eric, because I really, really don't. You have no fucking idea how entertaining it is to watch him not be so _ass-y._"

"I don't think I'm following you," Sookie said, breaking Pam's train of ramblings. "You want me to accept his help but to not trust him?"

"Good, you're catching up," Pam retorted with an amused smirk.

Sookie furrowed her eyebrows and Pam groaned in exaggerated exasperation. "Have you seen Eric? I may not swing that way anymore but I can still appreciate a nice piece of male ass when I see one. Sooner or later, Sookie, you _will_ find yourself attracted to him. Just be careful, alright? He's a great friend and a boss but he doesn't do well with romantic relationships. In short, he's a fucking heartbreaker."

Sookie shook her head in derision as she slung the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "Ain't nothing to worry about me. I don't have a heart he can break," Sookie replied with certainty. "Besides, I don't think he likes me that way, Miss Pam. He said so himself, he's done with me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart," Pam shrugged before she revved up her engine that went idle. "Off you go, I have to bring this car to the cleaners first. I have a date later and she might think I'm slumming it up now."

Sookie rolled her eyes lightheartedly before she exited the car. She waved at the driver and surprisingly, Pam returned her gesture by honking twice. Sookie was virtually skipping as she made her way inside the kitchen.

Selah, arms crossed against her chest, glared at Sookie as she entered the kitchen, which, to her astonishment, wasn't bustling with crew doing the prep for the dinner service. Her eyes roamed the kitchen and found that Selah and two porters were the only people in the kitchen. Before she could open her mouth to ask, Marco Alfonso strode inside from the dining hall.

"Ah, _mia bella!_ There you are. Come, come! We are about to begin," said Marco in his usual overzealous demeanor.

Sookie looked at Marco then at Selah.

"Yes, Sookie. We've been waiting for you," Selah said bitingly. "Chef Marco's going to cater an event at the Luxor next week and he's looking for staff to help him."

Marco, looking smug as ever, sidestepped Selah as he nudged Sookie to advance into the dining hall where the other cooks were waiting. "I won't keep them long, chef Pumphrey. I'll be quick with my selection process."

Sookie and Marco left the kitchen. Sookie was willing to bet her month's wage that if she looked back at Selah, she would be able to see smoke puffing out of her nose and ears.

* * *

**E/S**

"We found Long Shadow," Jake said without preamble as soon he settled in his chair across from Eric. "The reason he was off our grid was because he was working as the middle man for Victor Madden who, as I'm sure you know, is under the protection of Russell Edgington."

'_Motherfucker!'_ Eric cursed mentally. _'Why him?'_

Russell Edgington was Eric's archenemy.

Russell Edgington was old school. He would not have any qualms putting anyone down who were bold enough to defy or cheat him on his turf. He owned two major hotels in Vegas - Mandalay Bay and MGM Grand - and three small casinos scattered all over Nevada. There were rumors that he also had a hand in the biggest narcotic syndicate in Carson City. But because he was Russell Edgington, no one would dare point a finger in his direction.

Edgington's means of torture was prosaic at best. The one he was best known for was _'the chariot'_ where his henchmen would chain a man or a woman (there was no double standard for Edgington, yeah, ladies, you were very _lucky_) at the back of a car to be dragged around while they were still alive until they were no longer breathing and recognizable. Most of the time severed body parts would be found in the desert, if the animals hadn't feasted on them yet. Russell rarely used 'the chariot,' because the clean-up was always a bitch, so he reserved that particular handling to the ones he despised the most.

Eric, on the other hand, wasn't the physical type. He took after his father, who taught him that mental torture lasted longer than physical ones. He was barely of legal age when Godric had allowed him to witness one of his interrogation sessions with one of the _undesirables_ –people who were either big cheaters or better cheaters – and it was both disturbing and educational experience for the younger Northman.

"The one who has the gun isn't the one with the most power. It's always the one with the most information," Godric had told Eric before he went inside the cell that could be viewed from the other room. From there, Eric had watched his father purge every bit of information from the _undesirable_ without lifting a finger. He had watched with growing fascination how easily Godric could manipulate someone just by saying the right words. Godric would never go in without enough intelligence on the transgressor and he would twist every piece of material he already had to get more information or to scare the hooligan away. Some called it blackmail but Godric called it strategy.

On certain occasions where the undesirable proved too tough to crack, that was when the Northman treatment would be applied where Godric would ask his men to start 'breaking stuff' where his hatchet men would start pummeling one hand with a steel pipe, then the other hand before they moved on the feet.

Usually, one pounding was all it took for the victim to start cooperating. But if all else failed, there would always be another step - the plucking of vestigial body parts such as nipples and wisdom teeth. Those were useless anyway. Female offenders were spared of the Northman treatment. Godric was conservative that way. He would never hurt a woman. He would badger and blackmail, of course, but if those failed, he would turn them over to the LVPD and purge himself of the guilt.

If Godric's motto was 'knowledge is power,' Eric's was 'where there is love, there is fear.' Eric had discerned long ago that there were only two strong driving forces in life: fear and love. He picked that up from his favorite Beatle, John Lennon. Ironically enough one could not exist without the other. One could only be afraid when one loved enough to give a damn.

_Those _were his weapons of choice against the incalcitrant people who had the gall to irate him. Like Godric, he would look for something his victims loved the most, be it their love for their spouse, children, money or power. Then he would find a way to engrave in his victims' minds that he could easily take the things he loved most away. He wasn't actually going to hurt anybody else except for the fool who crossed him. And fortunately for the both parties, no one had dared call Eric's bluff, yet.

His methods might be wicked but at least he wasn't downright sadist and evil like Edgington. At least, not yet.

In a city where the seven deadly sins were always present and sometimes done in plain sight, there were still a few unspoken rules and guidelines to be implemented to keep the place from becoming Sodom and Gomorrah 2.0. But if there were very few tacit bylaws in Las Vegas for the commoners, there were even fewer when it came to someone as influential as the Northmans and the Edgingtons.

However, those cardinal rules were considered sacrosanct. Inviolable.

Most of the implicit agreements among the casino lords were pilfered from the Mafia Family code such as the Family should always come first, and 'dirty laundry' should never leave the wash room, which meant problems and arguments among Family members were to be settled within the Family. There were a few more unwritten no-no's among the big bosses, but the two that stuck with Eric the most were the farcical ones.

One of those rules was never to touch a kingpin's mistress. Wife, you could fuck as long as it was consensual. Most of the honchos' wives were only there for show, anyway. Trophies. Mistresses, on the other hand, were more personal. They were kept because of a reason, sometimes that reason was, ridiculously enough, _love_.

Another rule was never to rig a kingpin's vehicle. Never. Unlike in most casino films, where the most popular way to assassinate a big kahuna was to plant a bomb in his or her car, there was an assumed agreement against that. Top dogs were not supposed to be scared to start their own automobiles.

Eric, still brimming with puerile behavior, violated one of those outlandish rules during his first year of tenure as the head of the North. He had made the mistake of sleeping with one of Edgington's mistresses.

Her name was Tabitha Angelis and she had been Russell's favorite concubine for seven years. In the Viking's defense, it was Tabitha who came on to him and because he was still relatively new to the business and its machinations, he wasn't aware she was Russell's until after he slept with her.

Eric bumped into Tabitha in one of Russell's lavish galas and because Russell's legal wife was there, Tabitha couldn't be seen with Russell the entire night. Then entered the Viking, the new kid on the block who was surrounded with an air of danger and power, two qualities Tabitha craved for in a man. Tabitha was a twenty-something brunette with emerald green eyes that were luminescent like cat's eyes in the dark.

When Pam went in Eric's fuck suite the next morning to do the usual hello-and-goodbye ritual to Tabitha, she could barely contain her horror when she recognized Eric's latest trollop.

Pam had begged Eric to lay low until they could make amends to Russell. But the Viking, who had only laughed it off, was too cocky and pig-headed to do such a thing. Absurd rules didn't apply to Eric Northman, he thought without a hint of remorse or doubt. He was fucking untouchable.

But in an effort to pacify Pam's relentless pleading, Eric agreed to meet with Russell and 'apologize' for his faux pas. They met that same night at the MGM Grand, Edgington's flagship hotel, and Russell brought his cheating lover with him. The vivacious Tabitha from last night was gone, replaced by the diffident and nervy woman in front of him.

Eric remained unfazed by Tabitha's demeanor but, for all intents and purposes, had managed to make himself look contrite as he apologized for his indiscretion with Russell's companion. Edgington waved his hand dismissively before he cackled and asked his chief of security to take Tabitha in the next room.

As soon as they were alone, he turned to the Viking and his next words were still vivid in Eric's memory. It was the first threat he had received. And it was, until now, the most convincing.

"I get it, Eric, really, I do. I tried to usurp your position when your father died. So your first attempt to get back at me was to fuck _my_ whore. Out of respect for Godric, I will not kill you. You're still practically an infant, after all. But make no mistake, Eric, that the next time you touch anything that is mine will be the last thing you'll ever do."

As if to stress that his words could hold water, Russell escorted Eric to the Viking's car down at the basement lot. Roman and the rest of Eric's security detail stalked the two tycoons with extreme caution. Just as Eric was getting into his bullet-proofed town car, he heard a bloodcurdling wail that he knew came from Tabitha. The Viking had watched with muted revulsion as the Greek brunette was being dragged face down around the parking lot by a black pick-up truck.

Eric could feel Russell's eyes boring into him and not at the atrocity that was in front of them. Russell was waiting for his reaction. Would Eric wretch in disgust? Would he show utmost fear?

The Viking held his ground as he kept his face blank. He did not look away from the savagery that he was sure was meant to unhinge him. It went on for like hours, but according to Roman it, mercifully, took only less than half an hour before the poor woman stopped moving altogether. Russell ordered the vehicle to halt immediately. The flayed, lifeless body of Tabitha was unchained from the truck before four men in white beige overalls emerged from the lift to sweep the area clean of any traces of the brunette.

Tabitha was collateral damage. Russell made sure Eric would realize the role he played in Tabitha's demise. And that it was not yet forgiven. Nor would it be forgotten.

That night, Eric had learned his first lesson in the dark and twisted world of Vegas: it was time to grow the fuck up.

Eric gave Russell a wide berth in Vegas since then, and except for Russell's initial attempt to overthrow Eric with the help of Bill Compton, Edgington also kept his distance from the Viking. He knew Edgington was only biding his time until he could find the right tool, the perfect weapon, to use against the Viking, before he would strike.

Now, as Eric stared at the convoluted list of clients Long Shadow was supplying money and drugs to, he couldn't help the dread that was starting to swathe him as he realized that Corbett Stackhouse might have inadvertently signed his children's death warrants when he decided to gamble their future away.

Eric suddenly realized he didn't like Corbett Stackhouse. In fact he detested the lowly gambler. Of all the loan sharks in Vegas, why did he have to borrow money from someone Eric couldn't touch? _'Fuck!'_

He had to find a way to pay off _her_ debt without involving her. Because if Russell found out about _her_ and her connection to Eric…

Eric curled his fingers and his nails started digging into the soft flesh of his palms under the table as he tried to suppress the image of Tabitha at the basement. Only this time, Tabitha's hair wasn't black and pin-straight anymore but golden and wispy, and her eyes weren't green but chocolate brown.

He didn't realize that he was being awfully quiet until Jake tried to get his attention. "Mr. Northman? Do you still want us to bring Long Shadow in for questioning?"

Eric didn't want to draw Russell's attention to him or _her_. Not yet. Not until she was still in the city. A sharp pang sliced through his chest as he thought of her leaving. He let himself dwell in the pain before he chucked it away entirely. It was for the best, he thought. They were better off without each other, anyway.

The Viking became pensive for a while as he thought of his next course of action.

"Find out everything you can about the shark. I want to know how much Corbett Stackhouse owed him and the terms of the loan. If it were a decade-old loan then there must be some kind of agreement drawn. A usurer like Long Shadow would not allow a credit drag on this long. Discretion is vital, Jake. I don't want anything to be traced back to me. I want that debt paid off without Edgington finding out about it."

He might be done chasing after her. But he would be damned if he would let Russell get his hands on _her_.

As soon as he was alone in his office, Eric sank down in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. The reason he was deemed fearless by the people around him was because he _was_, indeed, of no fear.

Even Russell Edgington did not terrify him. He had a certain amount of – for lack of a better term - respect toward Russell's authority. Edgington had earned it when he showed Eric how he could easily take the life of someone of value to him just to make a point.

How come he didn't feel so invincible anymore? He could only think of one reason why. And she was probably on her way back to that goddamn podunk town right now – that didn't even realize how lucky it was to have her.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters. **

**Tabitha Angelis is Talbot Angelis. I just can't bring myself to make Eric have sex with a guy in an all-human world. **

**The author is still in seclusion hiding from angry fangirls, er, mob, armed with rotten fruits and sometimes day-old nappies. She will only come out when her two protagonists are reunited. She also appreciates the feedback. They keep her warm in her solitude. (*dashes off before someone else can spot her*)**


	18. Chapter 18

Sookie wedged herself between Holly and Terry at the dining hall as they waited for Marco Alfonso's big announcement. Without anymore ado, Marco gave the staff the details of the event. Apparently, Stan Davis, the CEO of the famed Vegas pyramid and the Queen Regent would be stepping down as CEO and would be relinquishing his ownership of the two hotels to the Northman enterprise.

A collective gasp from the staff followed, while Sookie felt her stomach clench at the mention of _his_ name. _'And the empire strikes again,'_ she thought.

Marco, who was pleased with the fine service the staff of Fiordilatte did during the opening dinner, asked if he could hire them to assist him and the Luxor crew during the event. The employees couldn't help but feel ecstatic at the prospect of earning extra cash and an opportunity to work with a master craftsman like Marco Alfonso. Even the pessimist in Sookie was quiet for a change. Maybe because she knew she would need every dime to support her living in Vegas if she wanted to track down Long Shadow.

There was something else from Marco's announcement that was making her heart pound rapidly.

'_I'll get to see him,'_ Sookie thought with an unexpected wave of giddiness, which jarred her just as instantly. She wasn't sure she was ready to see him again after what had happened last night. More importantly, how would he take the news that she would be staying in Vegas? Would he be pleased? Or bitterly disappointed? She didn't want to dwell on it so much. It was making the dull aching in her chest spring to life.

Marco's selection process wasn't elaborate or tricky. The Michelin-starred chef already had a menu planned so he wanted to sort the employees by their strength and capabilities. That was when it got complicated for Sookie. She had no specialty.

She was more of an all-around porter, rather than a cook. She would help Terry with the fish, Holly with thinning out the dough because her friend had a bad back and too much rolling of the pasta machine could strain Holly's shoulder and back. She would also help Alcee, the porter, with scrubbing the pots and pans especially the ones that couldn't be cleaned at the dishwasher.

Because of Holly's slight handicap, Marco didn't pick her to work in the pasta station and the line cook was sent back to the kitchen to help Selah prep for the service. Terry was included in the 'for consideration' list because Marco still couldn't get over how Terry butchered the sea bass before.

After much deliberation Marco chose six line cooks - including a _saucier_ (sauté and sauce chef), _grillardin _(grill chef)_, __entremetier _(vegetable chef)_, friturier _(fry chef), and a _rôtisseur_ (roast chef)_ -_ they were obliged to stay after the dinner service for the next couple of days to discuss the menu with Marco. The wine pairings would be left for the Luxor in-house sommelier, though.

They were all dismissed with the exception of Sookie who was still waiting for the edict.

"You, Sookie, will be my assistant. You will help me make my rounds and expedite the dishes. Because you might need to make last-minute garnish, I want to train you to improve your knife skills," Marco told her in a professional manner.

Sookie was delighted. She was still wasn't sure why Marco Alfonso was being patient with her but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Thank you, chef." she replied curtly. There was a slight shift in Marco's features that looked like he was taken aback by her eager compliance.

Marco nodded before he bid his adieu. He was on his way toward the main door when Sookie jogged after him.

"Can I ask for a favor, chef?" she asked beseechingly.

Again, Marco jerked a little by the lack of hostility in her voice before he asked her to proceed.

"Can you please reconsider hiring Holly? She has a very good palate, chef, and she could be a big help in making rounds. Also Terry, he's … I guess you just made him nervous that first time. But you still don't have a fish cook and he's the best I know," Sookie stated her case before she added, "_please_, chef."

Marco studied her features and gauged the sincerity of her request. After a good minute he acquiesced with a nod. "Tell them to hang back later after closing. I'll be back before midnight," he said. He made his way back to the door while Sookie sprinted toward the kitchen. Before Marco exited the restaurant, he turned to Sookie again. "I'm still betting on you, Sookie."

Sookie didn't have time to ask him what he meant as he dashed out.

* * *

**E/S**

"She's staying," Pam said without preamble as she made her way inside Eric's office. The Viking was consumed with the revenue charts on his iPad at the couch when she came in.

Eric stopped abruptly as he stared at Pam, weighing in her declaration. If she were fucking messing with him she picked the wrong time. But there was no levity in her voice or facial expression which meant she was telling the truth. He couldn't help but feel a surge of relief that was quickly replaced by dread as he realized that _her_ reason for staying might be the same reason he wanted her to go back to Louisiana: Long Shadow.

"Not interested," Eric said dismissively. He stood up from the sofa and backed away from Pam as he made his way to his table, hoping his observant assistant wouldn't sense the conflict he was feeling inside.

Unconvinced, Pam looked at Eric as she searched his face for any emotion. None. The Viking kept his mask of indifference intact as he resumed with his previous task.

"Oh, well. I just wanted to let you know. And she will be assisting Marco in Stan's gala." With that Pam sauntered out of his office as gracefully as she had entered.

As Pam was walking out she was greeted by Roman outside, along with a stunning brunette in an impeccable purple dress.

"Nora!" Pam exclaimed as she recognized the visitor. "What are you doing here? Anybody died?"

Nora Gainesborough, the beautiful brunette with doe eyes, scowled as she ignored Pam's unwelcoming remark before she sidestepped the blonde to enter the Viking's office.

Eric, upon hearing Pam's short diatribe, stood up from his chair and locked gazes with the newcomer. "Nora."

"Darling!" Nora sprinted forward as fast as her four-inch heels would take her. She threw her arms around the gaping Eric and planted an open-mouthed kiss on his lips.

Eric pried her arms from his neck as he drew back from her. Nora looked scorned by Eric's coldness but shook it off immediately. "You don't seem happy to see me?" She pouted as she ran her candle-like fingers along his jawline.

"You're right. I'm not. What are you doing here?" he spat coldly as he sat back on his chair and crossed his arms across his chest.

"Are you still mad about Paris? Oh, don't be a fool, Eric. It was a spur of the moment thing. Besides, I've learned my lesson. It was wrong of me to demand such preposterous things from you. I should have known that no one could tame a stallion like you, love," Nora said in her thick British accent.

Nora sat down at the edge of the thick wooden table. Pam also came back inside his office as she stood akimbo by the door, her eyebrow raised in derision.

Eric let out a heavy sigh as he picked the iPad from the table. "This isn't a good time, Nora. I'm busy. I've no time for your games."

"Who are you and what have you done to my Eric?" Nora said in mock suspicion. Eric fought the urge to roll his eyes at her cliché comeback. "The Eric Northman I know will never turn this," she leaned and pressed her breasts together so her cleavage would be inches from the Viking's face, "down. _He_ will order the _help_," she looked pointedly at Pam by the door, "to make herself scarce while you take me right here on this table." She ran her delicate hand on the smooth border of table.

Eric leaned back on his chair as his eyes scrutinized Nora's form. She was still as beautiful as he remembered her.

It was almost nine years ago, Eric came back to Vegas after spending summer in Europe where he met her.

Nora was only nineteen then but she was promiscuous enough to land on the Viking's radar when he was in the South of France.

She was also the only woman who had been with Eric more than once. Thrice to be exact. First was when they met in Europe. Their relationship lasted for two weeks, which was a record-high. They broke up five days after they arrived in Vegas and she went back to her carefree life in England.

The second instance was when Godric died, two years after he and Nora called it quits. Nora found out about Godric's death and hopped onto the first flight to the US to console the Viking. Eric fell into her familiar arms, but it only lasted for six days.

And the last time was three years ago, he and Nora bumped into each other in Paris when Eric took sole ownership of Hotel du Nord. It only took one smirk from the Viking to lure Nora back in his bed. The sex was amazing and they both knew how to please each other. He treated her like a princess and she returned the favor by displaying her mind-blowing skills in lovemaking.

Eric even asked Marco to fly to Paris the next day so he could be their personal chef for the duration of his stay in the City of Light. Marco, who was ecstatic to go back to the place that launched his career, was witness to Eric and Nora's whirlwind romance.

Unlike the previous instances that they parted ways, the third time was the most awkward for Eric. He thought Nora understood their arrangement. They had a connection - that was a fact. But it didn't mean he _loved _ her. Eric assumed Nora was at the same page as him, but he was sorely mistaken.

When it was time for the Viking to go back to the US it was when the tapestry that was Nora began to unravel. She started acting out – all clingy and demanding. She wanted to come with him to Vegas, which was no problem for the Viking, he was not one to turn down hot sex. But when she began talking about making their relationship official and exclusive, that was when he felt her dainty little fingers wrapping around his neck, slowly choking him.

He knew right then that he had to sit her down and set her straight once and for all. Their conversation was brutal. Hurtful words were thrown, and his room was trashed completely. It was a good thing he owned the hotel or the staff might have called in the cops because of all the racket Nora was making.

In the end Eric won – he always does – and Nora stayed in Paris grudgingly. He never heard from her again, until she barged in his office tonight.

Pam and Nora didn't have a cordial relationship. Nora was jealous of Pam and Pam was revolted by how Nora thought so highly of herself. Little did the dark-haired twat know that she was only one of Eric's meaningless liaisons.

Nora swung her feet off the table as she propped herself on Eric's lap, which earned a snort from Pam. She flung her arms around Eric's neck as her fingers played with the short hair at his nape, the tip of her nose touching his before she latched on to his lips.

Eric didn't fight her off. He let her tongue glide inside his mouth. He closed his eyes as he let himself revel in the familiarity of Nora's warm mouth.

The softness of her full lips that tasted like wax in his tongue. Wait, that was wrong. Her lips were supposed to taste like cherries. His tongue clashed with hers and he was jolted by its weirdness. Her tongue was supposed to taste like gelato and red wine. He ran the tip of his tongue on her teeth and was surprised to find them filmy and evenly spaced. Without the slight bump from the gap in her two front teeth. He opened his eyes and realized the lump of hair he was grabbing wasn't blonde but black.

'_This is wrong. _She_ is wrong!'_

He drew back from Nora and pushed her away from him.

"Bloody fuck is the matter with you?" Nora bellowed as she got off his lap. Pam's gusty laugh filled the room and the brunette shot daggers her way. Eric ignored the two women before he buried his face in his palms as he tried to shake off the image of _her._

He stood from his chair and made a beeline to the bar where he poured himself a drink. He downed it in a gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Pam, can you bring Nora to her usual suite," he told his still-laughing second without looking back at the women. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want, but I'll be terribly occupied. Find something else to entertain you."

Pam escorted the seething Nora out like a lowly felon. Nora spat curses his way but he couldn't care less. He was lost in his own thoughts. He was thinking how he let a stupid, stubborn redneck ruin him.

* * *

**E/S**

The days passed by quickly as Sookie immersed herself with work between the regular shifts and Marco's late-night tutorial. Holly was right with one thing, Marco knew his way inside the kitchen and she marveled at how easily he turned simple dishes into works of art.

Holly and Terry were incorporated in the Luxor catering. Sookie didn't tell them she was the one who asked Marco to bring them in the team. She thought maybe it would be nice for Marco to shake off cocky billing. He was doing them all a favor, she considered.

Marco also gave Terry a crash course with fish and shellfish and Sookie would hover over their station like a sponge, absorbing every bit of knowledge she could gather.

Pam would stop by in the morning to check the produce and protein deliveries but she would be gone before the lunch shift starts. The leggy blonde would check up on Sookie every now and then and Sookie would engage Pam in a playful repartee. Pam would call Sookie different names depending on the station the Southern Belle was working at, varying from fishmonger to play dough wrestler or simply teacher's pet when Marco was around coaching her.

Sookie, on the other hand, would simply call her Pepper Potts, the loyal assistant of the arrogant Tony Stark and Pam would cringe every time saying she would never bang the Iron Man anytime soon.

Things would have been perfect if Sookie weren't expecting Tony Stark to make his appearance in the restaurant.

Even if she were working the dinner service, Sookie would go to Fiordilatte before the lunch shift starts to see if it would be the day he would finally show up. It was _his_ restaurant after all. He was bound to make an appearance soon, right? _'Yeah right! He's done with your antics, remember? He's a very busy man. He doesn't have time to deal with fickle beings like you!'_

She was consumed with her self-deprecation when she heard Selah call her from her small office, which was adjacent to the manager's sanctuary.

It was a phone call from Jason. She hadn't used her iPhone yet. She didn't feel right using Eric Northman's gift when she knew they were still at odds. (And also because she couldn't figure out how to operate it.) She contemplated giving it to Jason, but she needed to know how much it costs first in case Eric Northman would demand it back. It was unlikely, she knew, but by the way she had treated him, she could never be too sure.

The phone call was brief but deeply unhinging. It seemed that the asshole Long Shadow had sent Jason a letter giving them until the end of the year to pay off at least half of the loan or he would take the farmhouse and more. The 'more' was the one that gave Jason the chills. Included in the ultimatum was the notice that by next year the interest would rise to twenty-five percent from the fifteen percent they were already paying for the past decade.

It was too much to handle. Their father's debt was at 150 thousand when he died. Because of the interest that they could not afford, it rose up to a quarter of a million in the span of ten years. How the hell were they supposed to come up with 125 grand in five months?

She needed another job. As though it was carefully orchestrated, she received another phone call later that day. It was from the Mandalay Bay casino. Sookie had to endure Selah's murderous looks as she took the call.

It was the HR guy she first talked to and, thankfully, wasn't the smarmy Victor Madden. It appeared that Sookie's comprehensive background assessment cleared out and she was welcome to join the Mandalay Family as soon as her gaming license was approved which could be obtained as soon as she gave them a copy of her landlord information. She was instantly on guard. From her initial interview, she got a very strong vibe that Victor Madden was privy to her father's demise. She was actually grateful when they turned down her application. She didn't even comply with their demand to provide a character reference from Nevada in the hope that they would let it go and forget she ever existed.

She should have known it wouldn't be that easy. She asked the HR person who gave her the greenlight and the man on the other line insisted that a reference wasn't necessary anymore since she passed the background check. In the end, she graciously accepted the job and promised to drop by the hotel tomorrow morning with her additional requirement. The more she thought about it, the more she was becoming convinced that Victor Madden knew who killed her father. And if that were the case, then all the more reason she should work at the Mandalay.

She would have to ask Selah for lunch shifts so she could work graveyard hours at the casino. She would be dealing at the baccarat tables, which was easy for Sookie because she was familiar with all the game's rules. It was basically lucky nine, just a little more organized.

* * *

**E/S**

It had been four days since Nora had arrived in Las Vegas and Eric had managed to dodge her since then. He had been staying at the Luxor since then. He had a private suite at the pyramid from the time he closed the deal on the hotel a month ago. He would rarely linger in his office at the North and asked Pam to send all urgent matters to Stan's old office at the Luxor, which was undergoing minor touch-ups to suit Eric's style.

Eric couldn't bring himself to drive Nora away from the North. They had a history together, after all. If anything, she was at least his friend. And he took care of all his friends.

If eluding Nora was problematic, keeping away from _her_ was complicated at best. He had avoided Fiordilatte like the plague since he found out that _she_ decided to stay. There had been numerous times when he would find himself driving toward _her_ apartment only to realize he wasn't supposed to be near that place any longer. He would turn back around cursing himself and his stupid head that couldn't stop thinking about _her_.

_She_ was _nothing_ to him. Nothing. They had no connection. No chemistry. No similarity. No nothing. He would keep telling himself that until he was back in the comfort of his suite. He would swear over and over that it would be the last time he would think of _her_.

He even banned Marco, Pam and Sam from talking about _her_. In Sam's fucking nerdy terminology, _she_ became that villain who-must-not-be-named in the books that were so out of the Hawk's age range. What was it called again? Happy Snotter? Fuck it, only a geek like Sam could remember that, Eric thought in frustration.

The surveillance team that was tailing her wasn't reporting to him anymore. He directed them to Roman. He would have called off the stake-out group if it weren't for his fear that she would go straight to Long Shadow herself. He had delegated the task of keeping a close eye on her to Roman. His head of security would only alert him if there were anything dubious going on around her.

Eric knew he was bound to see her again. Probably in Stan's dinner. He pondered on ditching the event altogether. He wasn't sure it would be productive for his resolve to stay away if he sees her again. _'Damn fuck it, Viking! Grow a pair!'_

Eric grunted before he headed for the shower. He couldn't think straight because he hadn't had sex in what, a week? He groaned again, he would need to find some form of release soon. He didn't take a vow of celibacy because some stuck-up redneck decided he wasn't good enough for her.

He went down to the Luxor casino after an hour. He was supposed to meet Pam in less than an hour and he wanted to grab dinner first before he starts working again. That was all he did nowadays, work and fucking work.

But before he could make his way inside his favorite restaurant at the Luxor, Pam came dashing toward him, her usually composed face riddled with a mix of concern and irritation.

"What?" he asked.

"Your whore of a pet, Nora. She's at the Mandalay, drinking and gambling at the casino. Must be her way to get your attention. Thalia alerted me as soon as she spotted her by the bar," Pam said gratingly. Thalia was one of the pit bosses at the Mandalay casino who was working as a double agent for Eric.

Eric couldn't help rolling his eyes in vexation. Nora really knew how to push his buttons, and not in the right way. She was privy to Eric's enmity toward Russell Edgington and she knew if she went straight to the enemy's turf, Eric would have no choice but to go and break their impasse. She had done it once before when the split up after Godric died. It was a good thing Thalia was ingenious enough to stash her in one of the private game rooms until Eric sent Roman to collect her. It also helped that Russell and Victor were out of the country at that time. Eric had to grease palms at the service area to make sure none of it would get back to Russell or Victor.

"Send one of the new guards to get her. Make sure they won't draw attention. Russell's still in Macau, but Victor's here. That ass-hat will be all over this if he finds out Nora's with me," Eric said hurriedly. He was starting to doubt his action of letting Nora stay in Las Vegas. He would have to set her loose, he thought.

He didn't need any more distraction. One girl was already driving him crazy.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie found out that Selah was more compliant during her first smoke at the end of a shift so with perfect timing, Sookie managed to urge the executive chef to give her the first shift as she took the graveyard period at the casino. Selah agreed under the condition that Sookie would help prep for an hour for the dinner service, without pay. Sookie grabbed the deal begrudgingly, thinking it would be better to stay in Selah's good graces while she was still looking for a more stable career.

The only glitch would be to ask the casino manager if she could take the day off on Saturday – the night of Stan Davis's farewell dinner - which Sookie accomplished with the right amount of Southern charm.

It was Sookie's first night working at the Mandalay. Since she was a newbie she was designated to a smoking area with lesser traffic but higher minimum bets. She was used to customers lighting up and puffing up smoke in her face at Lafayette's during the Super Bowl, the only time Lafayette would allow smoking inside the bar, so she wasn't really bothered by her table assignment. What actually bothered her was the obnoxious, wasted chick who kept calling her daft every time she lost a game.

The brunette, albeit beautiful with her porcelain skin and flawless British accent, was already glassy-eyed when she sat down at Sookie's empty table. She threw five grand at the table and Sookie called for a change at the pit boss, Amelia. It was mandatory for a superior to supervise large amount transactions. But the brunette didn't like to be kept waiting. She cursed as she prodded Sookie to hasten the deal.

The inebriated patron, who was chugging down chardonnay like water, was the only player at Sookie's table. Every time a new player would sit beside her she would glare at him or her until he or she would finally leave the table. That didn't sit well with Sookie, so she never missed a chance to reprimand the brunette whenever she would whip out her phone and leave it on the table. It was prohibited to use mobile phones at the tables for security purposes. Sookie hoped the brunette would get terribly pissed at her and leave the table.

Unfortunately for Sookie, the gambler was adamant in aggravating her as well.

The brunette kept losing bets and it only made her more insufferable. A new deal came and the brunette placed her bet on the Player and Sookie rushed to deal the cards. The brunette peered at her cards from the edge before she threw them at Sookie. It was a pair of tens. Sookie opened the Banker's cards face up: a Queen and an eight of hearts. Before Sookie could declare the Banker as the winner and collect the player's chips a young man, dressed in dark jeans and shirt, sat beside the brunette and whispered something to her. The brunette pushed the man roughly away from her before saying, "tell that bloody fuck that I am not leaving until he gets off his high horse and come down here himself."

A security guard was instantly on the young man's side telling him to go take a walk and leave the lady alone.

'_Lady my ass!'_ Sookie thought in contempt.

The young man didn't wait to be told twice as he left the table. The brunette smirked before she chugged down her fourth glass of wine and turned her focus to the table. "Where the fuck are my chips?" she asked referring to eight hundred worth of chips she bet on the Player which Sookie already amassed after the Player lost the hand.

"Banker won, Miss. Eight over zero," Sookie replied in a clinical tone.

"Are you bloody stupid? I got two four lines, I was sure one of them was a nine!"

Amelia hovered over their table immediately, trying desperately to diffuse the tension before it turned into a full-blown melee. "What's the problem here, Sookie?"

Sookie explained the situation to Amelia but the inebriated brunette was not about to admit her mistake. "Are you calling me a liar?" she spat at Sookie.

"No one's calling you a liar, ma'am," Amelia butted in. "We can easily resolve this. We have cameras everywhere. I'm sure we can settle this once we reviewed the tape. I'll call security." She started dialing in her cellphone while Sookie kept herself busy by arranging the chips.

"If you'll just please wait a few minutes while we review the tape, ma'am," Amelia turned to the brunette.

The brunette was so drunk she knocked the chair down when she stood up abruptly. "No. I want to see the tape myself. I know a hell of a lot about the machinations of a casino to trust that I will not be duped. And I'm calling in my _boyfriend_. You are going to shit bricks when he gets here."

Amelia and Sookie exchanged a wary but equally-amused glance. Amelia then waved at a floor manager to guide the patron to the security office upstairs.

The brunette shook the floor manager's hand brusquely before she smoothed her skimpy black cocktail dress. She glared back at Sookie then at Amelia. "I want _her_ there, too!" She pointed at Sookie.

Amelia was about to protest when Sookie gave her a reassuring look before she stood up from her chair. She clapped her hands together and raised them up to show that there weren't anything in her hands or fingers. The drunken gambler sniggered at Sookie before she walked with less grace than before and followed the floor manager.

'_This is gonna be a long night.'_

* * *

**E/S **

Eric was discussing the new plans for the Regent with Stan Davis at the high stakes area at the Luxor when Pam emerged beside him and asked for a minute away from Stan. "Thalia called. Nora's histrionics reached an all-time low. She's in the security office of the Mandalay as we speak. It seems like your trouble maker thinks she's being cheated in baccarat."

Eric held his head up and gazed at the ceiling before he pinched the bridge of his nose. _'She needs to go. Even if I have to drag her out of Vegas myself.'_

Speak of the devil, Eric's cellphone vibrated inside the breast pocket of his black blazer. He checked the caller ID and sighed audibly when he saw the name. "You get your fucking ass back to the North or I swear, Nora, you're going to lose your fucking accent when I'm done with you."

"Then come and get me you fucking sod!" With that she disconnected the line.

'_Shit!'_ Nora should thank her lucky stars Eric Northman could never hit a girl.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie had been watching the same tape for the last twenty minutes. It was clear that she did everything right and the intoxicated patron misread her cards. Sookie wasn't even demanding an apology that she obviously deserved. But she still couldn't leave and go back to her table because Victor Madden asked her to stay put as they waited for the player's escort, who, from what Sookie had gathered from the drunk brunette, was some big shot tycoon.

Victor stressed that Sookie must be there in case the brunette decided to screw her over and file a complaint against the dealer. The line between right or wrong had been blurry in the City of Sin, Sookie realized, and she wasn't about to let Miss Queen of England to sabotage her on her first day.

Sookie heaved another sigh as she fiddled with the button on her black vest. She was wearing the standard dealer's uniform which was composed of a white button-down long-sleeve shirt, black trimmed slacks and black vest. Her hair was braided loosely at the back and she barely had make-up on, just a touch of blush, which Holly insisted, a little mascara, upon Jessica's suggestion and her trusted cherry lip gloss.

One of the guards' two-way radios buzzed, alerting them of the arrival of the brunette's infamous boyfriend. After two perfunctory knocks, the door swung open and in stepped Thalia, one of the pit bosses with another guard followed by …

'_Shut my mouth!'_ Sookie felt the wind knocked out of her chest as she stared at their visitor.

* * *

**E/S**

'_Fuck, no!'_ Eric almost screamed out loud when his gaze landed on the blonde dealer who was gaping at him with muted surprise.

'_What are you doing here!'_ He wanted to grab the girl in a black and white suit and bolt out of the door the instant he realized who she was_. _

He could feel the blood draining from his face. And he hoped to all that was good, that Victor Madden would think it was because of the sight of Nora and not _her_.

Eric knew he needed to get out of the there to regroup, but there was no way he could take _her_ with him. Judging by her outfit, she was working as a dealer at the casino. Probably the same dealer who got tangled into the train wreck that was Nora Gainesborough.

"Mr. Northman," Victor Madden's voice snapped Eric back to the present. "You really don't need to come here to pick up your friend."

Eric stopped himself from snorting derisively at Victor's phony remark. He knew Victor wanted Eric to come to Mandalay so he would have something to use to wipe Russell's ass with. But he knew if he wanted to get _her_ out of the casino without Victor sniffing after them, he had to play his cards right.

The Viking decided to ignore Victor altogether. "Can't leave you for one second without getting into trouble," he directed his reproach to Nora who was pouting her blood-red lips as she tried to keep herself from falling over.

It took all of Eric's concentration not to glance at _her_ as he approached Nora. He enveloped the smashed brunette to his side with one arm. Nora proved to be an easy one to please as she offered no resistance to the Viking's ministration. "Get me out of here," Nora hushed as she wrapped her arms on his waist and rested her head on the crook of his neck.

"Of course," Eric answered in earnest before he turned to Victor. "Is there anything else you need us here for?"

Victor scrutinized the couple with distrustful eyes before he replied. "If there's no more objection from Miss Gainesborough against Miss Stackhouse, then you're free to go."

Eric tightened his grip on Nora when Victor said _her_ name. He kept his apathetic disguise as he pivoted his head toward the silent dealer. Their gazes met and he cursed his heart that was beating erratically in his chest as he took in her intense expression. _'What are you doing here?'_

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie had been called the Telepath back in her hometown for her proficiency in reading her foes' strategies in poker. How many times had she forced another player to fold his cards when she had nothing but a worthless hand?

Now she wished it was true, that she did have the ability to venture inside the mind of the man standing before her - who kept disregarding her presence as soon as he saw her.

'_Who is she?'_ she asked him telepathically. The stab of pain she felt as she watched him wrap his arms protectively on the hussy bitch was immediate and disarming. Her palms turned clammy with cold sweat.

Did someone turn the temperature up, she wondered. Her pulse started racing and her breathing was getting uneven. If only she could unclasp the first two buttons on her blouse, she knew she would feel better.

The stupid drunk hussy leaned on him and her dark hair cascaded on the sleeve of his jacket. Was he wearing another one of his criminally expensive suits? Damn, that bitch's hair was blocking Sookie's view and Sookie wanted to yank the snooty brunette's hair in clumps to get her freakishly big head off his shoulder.

Sookie didn't realize her hands had balled into fists, probably itching to grab the brunette by her scalp. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she willed her hands to relax. She was so consumed with her disgust toward the despicable patron that she didn't realize Victor Madden had asked her a question.

"Miss Stackhouse?" Victor tried to get her attention.

She blinked furiously to get out of her haze as she turned her attention to the shady casino manager. "Sir?"

"I was asking if you knew Mr. Northman since you're also working part-time at a restaurant he recently acquired," Victor repeated his query with a hint of annoyance.

"Yes, sir," she answered truthfully. Then at the corner of her eye she caught Eric Northman tense up with her reply. "I mean, yes, of course, I knew Mr. Northman, but we weren't personally introduced. You see, I'm only a kitchen assistant and Mr. Northman has only talked to our head chef."

She chanced a glance at Eric and she almost heaved a sigh of relief herself when she saw his expression return to cold arrogance.

"It seems I'm not paying you enough if you feel the need to get a second job." The Viking sneered at Sookie. Although his demeanor was cool and casual, Sookie could feel the sting hiding behind his words. She didn't ask for his permission to work at the Mandalay. She knew her lapse in judgement would cost her dearly.

She was about to apologize to the Viking when Victor interjected. "Now, now, Mr. Northman, you know how tough it is for a single lady to live in Vegas. Rest assured, there will be no conflict of interest here with Miss Stackhouse. That is if you don't fire her tomorrow." Victor leered.

Eric Northman threw Sookie a look of disappointment before he turned to Victor with a smirk. "Please. Unlike you, Victor, I have more important things to do than snoop into my employees' business that wasn't my own. Especially those whose only chore is to scrub pans."

Without sparing Sookie another glance Eric glided out the door while Nora gripped the Viking's arm like a vice.

Sookie signed the security's log book and made her way back to her table at the main gaming area. She didn't know what to make of Eric Northman's subterfuge. Could it be his way to punish her? Or was he trying to keep Victor Madden in the dark about their association? Sookie didn't have time to think of an answer when she heard the dark-haired whore's shrill cackling as they exited the service lift with Eric Northman in tow. They were making a beeline to the East exit, the one closest to the lobby, both oblivious of Sookie.

For the life of her, Sookie didn't know why she followed the couple. She stayed close to the cold marble walls as she stalked them.

The wasted brunette gripped Eric Northman's waist as he tried to drag her with his quick, long strides. He must be on a hurry to get out of the hotel, Sookie thought.

Sookie's hand clamped on her mouth when all of a sudden, Nora yanked the Viking by his wrist, clasped her hands on his face and pulled him into a hungry kiss. The dull ache in her chest that was always incorporated to Eric Northman came back with a vengeance. It was like the fog had been lifted. The moment of denial was over. She hated that bitch. Eric Northman wasn't supposed to kiss anyone else. He _wasn't_.

'_Stop!'_ she screeched telepathically. If there were any appropriate time to use her Jedi mind trick, it would be now. _'Stop it!' _she pleaded.

After a few seconds, she couldn't watch it anymore. She forced herself to look away as she sent him another message. _'I'm here, Eric.'_

Nothing changed. Eric was still sucking face with the brunette and Sookie realized she was no telepath.

She quietly left her dim corner as she marched toward the casino. If only she had stayed a second longer she would have seen him push the brunette away. She would have seen how the bitch bit his lower lip savagely until it bled.

She would have heard her scream, "fuck you, Eric!" in frustration before she careened toward the glass doors of the lobby.

And she would have seen Eric Northman look back at the hall leading to the casino, wishing he wasn't imagining seeing her in the corner.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters. **

***Pants heavily* Almost there. Only a few more steps and I will be officially off the intricate ladder of angst. Please don't kill me!**


	19. Chapter 19

"Who is she!" Nora exclaimed as soon as they were inside her suite. Eric never uttered a word during their short drive to the North. And it added fuel to Nora's blazing fury. "Who's the sodding cunt you're fucking, Eric? I _must_ know!"

"You _must_?" Eric gritted his teeth. He could barely contain his own anger after seeing _her_ at the Mandalay. Leave it to _her_ to run straight into a snake pit when all he wanted to do was keep _her_ safe. "Let me tell you what you must, Nora. You must pack your bags and hop on the next plane out of here while I still have control of myself. Do you have any fucking idea how much trouble you put me into with all your drama?"

Nora slammed the heels of her hands into his chest with as much force as she could muster in her inebriated state. "Screw you! You think you can just discard me like some day-old refuse? I'm different from your worthless whores, Eric! I know you!"

"You don't! And don't ever pretend otherwise. Because if you do, you won't be here. You won't force me to be with you when I told you time and time again we will _never_ be together." Eric moved toward the door. He couldn't waste another minute pacifying Nora and her infantile theatrics. He needed to talk to Roman to know how _she_ ended up working at the Mandalay Bay without him knowing about it.

"Eric!" Nora screeched as she clung onto his arms, forbidding him to depart. "Please, please, don't leave. Please! I love you. I'll do anything. Please!"

The sight of Nora grovelling caused Eric extreme discomfort. He never wanted to treat her that way. She was right. She was different from his other lovers. But she wasn't special. She wasn't _her_.

And right now, _she_ was in danger.

He pried Nora's delicate fingers off his arm as he led her back to the bed. Nora thought Eric would finally stay so she let him put her down. But as soon as she was settled, he sprinted to the door before she could follow him.

* * *

**E/S**

The rest of the night went by smoothly without any other snafu. A few players sat at Sookie's table and she dealt with them courteously and with as much grace as she could hold.

The tranquillity in her section was a stark contrast to Sookie's private war. No matter what she did, she couldn't shake off the agitation she felt after witnessing Eric Northman's intimate encounter with the brunette hussy.

After three grueling hours of mind-numbing tedium, Sookie could finally go home. But before she could log out she caught sight of a dark-haired man in a blue suit talking to Victor Madden in the manager's office. She made a double take when she realized who he was.

Bill Compton.

Before she could walk away inconspicuously, she heard Bill call out her name. She stopped dead in her tracks before she took a deep breath and put on a saccharine smile. She whirled around and greeted her former hometown neighbor.

"How are you, Bill?" she asked with thinly-veiled contempt. She should have known Bill Compton was the one who backed her up with Mr. Madden. It was like an intricate web of lies in Vegas. If it weren't Eric Northman, it would be Bill Compton.

"I heard your first day was rough?" he asked with a perfect dose of pretentious concern that Sookie knew was his way of being nosy.

Sookie shrugged. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Good," he bobbed his head. "You're starting to get the hang of things. You seem to adapt well in the city. If there's anything I can help you with, Sookie, don't hesitate to ask." He flashed a meek smile.

"I think you've already done enough, Bill," she replied casting a sharp look at Victor Madden who was perusing his iPad to disguise his eavesdropping.

Bill, to his credit, was quick to catch up to Sookie's insinuation. "Victor's a good friend. I used to work here as consultant after I was laid off from the North. That was before I was transferred to the Grand. When they ran a check on you, I couldn't help but give you a glowing recommendation. And Victor's more than happy to hire my _friend_. We _are_ still friends, right?"

Bill hadn't changed one bit. He was still lousy at pretending to have pure motives. But she wasn't about to call him out again. She was tired and she was trying not to be too hostile anymore. She gave him a perfunctory nod before she excused herself.

To hell with Bill Compton. If he wanted to screw with her head, he was too late. Eric Northman already beat him to it.

* * *

**E/S**

If it weren't for Pam's intrusion Eric would have fired Roman Zimojic right on the spot. The chief of security had never been at the receiving end of the Viking's wrath before and he realized it was a very terrifying place to be in.

Eric's face was dark and menacing and everyone who caught a glimpse of his features scrambled out of his way. He was livid. With a low voice, that resembled that of a serial killer, he asked how Roman could miss something so vital to _her_ safety. Roman tried explaining that he was only made aware of that fact early this evening but because Eric was preoccupied with Nora, he decided to wait until the Viking could return to the North. Roman's excuse was feeble and he knew it. That was when Pam decided to interfere and asked Eric to calm down. She told him that she would straighten things out first thing tomorrow.

Pam was still trying to mollify the Viking but he was done listening to them.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie was walking aimlessly for the past ten minutes until she realized she wasn't heading for the bus stop but toward the far end of the Strip. Right up the North. She didn't know how she got there. She only realized she was going the wrong way when a silver BMW zoomed right past her making her jerk back at the curb. She cussed under her breath.

She knew she wasn't supposed to be going to the North. She knew how late it was and that he was probably sleeping or sleeping with someone.

No, scratch that.

He _couldn't_ be with someone. He just couldn't. It wasn't possible. No way in hell possible. She shushed the pesky voice in her head telling her he was with the hammered brunette, probably fucking each other's brains out right at this moment.

Then another whisper - the voice of reason - asked her what was it to her if Eric and Nora were really together. Like _together_, together. He was a grown man with a healthy libido and Nora, aside from being so despicable, was not hard to look at. It would be a crime not to have sex with her when she was practically throwing herself at him.

And Sookie, what was she compared to Nora?

'_Someone with dignity, that's what!'_ she thought defiantly. She knew she must be losing her mind when she realized she was arguing with herself.

Her shoulders sagged as she asked herself why she had to be a snarky pain in the ass who would always assume the worst in people.

Damn it, she was getting off point. She raked her brain for the appropriate reason why she was heading _that_ way.

Right, to apologize. That was it. She owed him an apology for going behind his back when she took the job at the Mandalay. Although she wasn't legally obliged to ask for his permission to get a second job since she was only working part-time at Fiordilatte, she still felt like she owed him an explanation. It was the least she could do after all the trouble he went through to track down the Rat for her.

Then like a flash of a camera, the image of him and the whorish Nora (what a freaking boring name, she thought), passed through her eyes and she shook her head vigorously to banish the picture in her head.

'_Slut!' _she cursed the brunette again, and not for the first time tonight, she wanted to scratch Nora's face with her ragged nails.

She continued on her path. The butterflies in her gut were back and they were making her trek up the North much more treacherous.

* * *

**E/S**

He had been circling her street for the third time now and he still couldn't decide what to do. Maybe he could force her to leave Vegas altogether. She might be stubborn as fuck but Eric had his means to make it happen. Or he could simply ignore her. Pretend like she never existed. That the past tumultuous week had not happened and he could go back to his bastardish ways. The good old times.

But he rejected both options away as soon as he thought of them. None of them was acceptable because none of them meant he could be with her.

After another round on her street, he finally gave up and went back to the North. He locked himself in his suite and drove his guards away. He reached for a heavy crystal bottle of scotch at the mini bar but his frustration got the best of him and he hurled the bottle across the room. It crashed to the wall before it shattered into pieces and the nauseating stench of the alcohol wafted in the air. He cursed feverishly before he dialed room service. He didn't want to stay in this room any longer. He grabbed his jacket off the chaise lounge before he stormed out of his suite.

He boarded the lift as he wished for a fucking light bulb moment. Nothing. He stared at the floor indicator on his right and realized he was at the twelfth floor. He remembered _her_ and her stupid lift wish. In spite of all logic, he found himself closing his eyes and holding his breath as he willed for an answer to his dilemma. Anything. Any goddamn thing would do.

The elevator dinged and he opened his eyes. The doors slid open and he almost doubled over when he saw that the person staring at him with the same agape expression was none other than _her_.

For a few moments they just stood there looking at each other with disbelieving eyes. The door was sliding shut and Eric fumbled for the button to keep the doors wide open.

"Hi," she breathed out with tentativeness as she broke their stand-off.

Eric didn't say anything as he probed her with his scrutinizing eyes.

"Can we talk?" she asked when he didn't utter a response.

Eric still couldn't find his voice. He still couldn't believe _she_ was here - standing right before him.

"Mr. Northman?" she tried again. "I know it's late and you have every reason to drive me away but I just want to explain and -"

She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence as Eric grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her toward the still-open elevator. He pressed the number of his penthouse and prayed to housekeeping gods that whoever was sent to clean his room was already done fixing his mess.

Sookie stared at the floor indicator and watched the numbers fly by as they went up. Her ears were getting clogged and she swayed subtly in her feet when she felt vertiginous. They reached the top level and Eric, who hadn't let go of her wrist, gently yanked her forward.

He swiped his key card to the electronic lock before he swung the door open and pulled her inside. The cleaning lady was still there, scrubbing the carpet with something that smelled like a lemon car freshener. The attendant had the sense to keep her head down as Eric pulled Sookie inside the adjacent room leading to his bedroom before he shut the door behind him.

Sookie was utterly disoriented as he propelled her to sit in another chaise lounge beside the bed.

"I think I'll stand up," she said when she finally got her bearings.

Eric nodded as he finally released her before he backed away a few paces until the back of his knees hit the edge of his massive bed. He wanted to sit down but he didn't want to give _her_ the advantage. He needed every kind of defense mechanism against her. If she wanted to stand up then he would too. Although he needed something to keep him steady because he could feel his legs buckling, betraying the air of nonchalance he was projecting.

Sookie swallowed thickly as she dropped her gaze to the carpet. Unearthly silence blanketed the room as Eric soaked in her presence. She had changed into her usual attire of faded jeans, plain white-fitted shirt and black Chuck Taylor. Her loose braid was still in place and wispy strands framed her innocuous face. Her cheeks were naturally tinged pink and he almost groaned when she bit her moist lip. She was unassumingly, painfully beautiful. And the worst part was she wasn't even trying.

"Why -"

"I -"

They spoke at the same time and Sookie couldn't help but grin at the awkwardness of their situation.

Eric gestured for her to go first and Sookie gulped one more time before she spoke. She appraised the Viking and her gaze landed on his bruised lips.

"Rough night?" she started as she touched her bottom lip referring to his swollen one.

Eric was lost for a few seconds as he stared at her lips. Then he realized she was talking about his.

He ran his tongue over his lower pucker before he shrugged. "Bumped into a door."

"Must be a pretty gorgeous door," she laughed without humor. If she had to guess that 'door' also had an annoying British accent.

Eric didn't reply, nor did he smirk at her biting remark. "Why are you here, Miss Stackhouse?"

Sookie's eyes fell back to the floor as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. She cleared her throat before she replied. "I'm here to apologize. For…" she said haltingly "… everything."

Surprise flickered across his eyes but he quickly rearranged his features to project harsh indifference. Sookie started shifting her weight from foot to foot, a clear indication of her nervousness. He kept mum as he reveled in how his silence made her uneasy.

The silence dragged on between them and Sookie was getting more and more discomfited. She heard the door at the next room open and close and she knew they were now all alone in his gigantic room. She gripped the strap of her bag as she prepared to leave.

"You must be tired and it's late and I have to catch the next bus -" she babbled as she backed away toward the door.

"I'll drive you." Eric beat her to the exit but she stopped him by placing her hand on top of his that was grasping the door handle.

It was like a static current passed through them and the hair at the back of her head rose stiffly at their contact.

She drew her hand back as though she was burned. "No, no. It's really not necessary," she stuttered.

Eric's composed face was slowly crumbling into a look of utmost annoyance. "Are you legally obliged to turn me down or is it just an instant reflex to say no to me every fucking time?"

'_No. Oh, please, no. I don't want to fight again,'_ Sookie thought as she chewed on her bottom lip. She knew she had to do something to refrain from going back to that route with him.

She darted her tongue out to lick her lips nervously and if she weren't looking down at the carpet she would have seen Eric flinch a little as his eyes zeroed in on her inviting mouth. She would have seen his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously while waiting for her response.

"I- I just don't want to be an inconvenience to you is all," she said without a hint of sarcasm.

"Too late for that," he snapped. The second the words left his mouth, he instantly regretted it. Was he seriously trying to piss her off? He knew for a fact how volatile she could be and yet there he was, saying all the wrong words _again_.

"I'm sorry," Sookie murmured.

"Stop apologizing. I don't care for that. Why don't you just tell me why you're really here, Miss Stackhouse?"

Eric had always been good at solving seemingly unfathomable conundrums. But the girl in front of him was no riddle. The fucking String Theory had nothing on _her_.

Silence. She fidgeted and her eyes started darting around the room like she was considering which way would be easier for a quick getaway and it infuriated the Viking even more.

"You didn't come here to apologize. You came here because you wanted to see for yourself if I were fucking her. Didn't you?" He forced himself to sneer. He wanted to provoke some sort of reaction from her. Even though he had always detested jealous women in the past, this time - this _one_ time - he wanted to see if she were. _'Throw me a bone here, Miss Stackhouse!'_

Sookie finally looked up and met his gaze. Her previously peevish stance was gone, replaced by steely confidence he was accustomed to. Her stare was deliberate, probing and unyielding.

"I knew you weren't having sex with her," she replied without any trace of uncertainty. Eric's eyes widened a little but he kept his cool façade in place.

"Why so?" he asked and he almost slapped himself when his breath hitched and made him sound like fucking toad. He realized she was standing awfully close to him. He couldn't think clearly because the intoxicating smell of cherry blooms from her hair was suffocating him.

"Because I know you don't like her."

He laughed dryly. "And you got all that after being with us for what, ten minutes?" Damn, he thought his charade was flawless. What if Victor had seen through his deception, too?

"No. I realized it when I saw you two kiss at the hallway."

'_I knew you were there!'_

"Never pegged you for a peeping tom, Miss Stackhouse," he quipped. He didn't like the fact that _she_ saw him and Nora, but he there was also warm bubble rising up inside him at the thought that she didn't buy it either. "And you haven't quite explained why you think I don't like her."

"Because that – that thing you did, that wasn't real. You can't con a con, Mr. Northman."

'_Can't get anything past you, you dastardly, smart girl.'_

Sookie continued when he didn't respond. "I know how you function, Mr. Northman. Your telltales weren't that hard to spot. Your hands didn't twitch on the side the way they do when you couldn't quite contain yourself. You didn't wet your lips when she held your face. You didn't pull her in so there would be no more space that would separate you. Your hand didn't find its way to her hair to tug her face closer because you simply couldn't get enough. And because you're so freakishly tall, you always bend your head on one side so you could easily slide your tongue inside her mouth to taste her." She was almost breathless when she finally paused and she realized she was panting heavily as she stared at Eric's burning blue orbs.

She was immersed with her short monologue that she hadn't realized Eric had been taking small steps toward her while she was backing slowly away until her back hit the hard wood of the door. The bag she was clutching in front of her was the only thing blocking him from pressing his body against her. His face was inches from hers and their foreheads were almost touching. She could feel Eric's shallow breathing on her face and she felt a lump in her throat when he finally spoke.

"Your power of deduction is impeccable but not infallible. We only shared a couple of …" he trailed as tried to keep his hands from clutching her face. His gaze flickered to her eyes then to her lips, fighting a losing battle with his self not to kiss her, taste her, and tell her how many times he had fantasized this exact moment.

He breathed an audible sigh. "How sure are you that I don't just use a different approach with other women every time?"

'_Shut up, asshole! Don't fuck it up and just shut the hell up!'_ his brain was screaming at him.

"Who cares?" she shrugged slightly. Her gaze remained locked with his as she tried to sound defiant. "I just know that mine was better. And I also know that right now, you want to kiss me so badly. But you won't. Because you want to prove me wrong. Because that's what we always do. Prove each other wrong until nothing else is right anymore."

"You're wrong," he replied in a gruff voice before he closed the gap between them and took her lips roughly. Possessively. Eric didn't give a damn if he completely lost or if he were mistaken. Hell, he would admit he was never right all his life and she was never erroneous if it meant he could have her.

Their kiss was disastrous. It was wet and sloppy and they were like two inexperienced teenagers struggling to outdo each other. And it was nothing short of perfect.

Their hunger was obvious, glaring and all-consuming. Sookie tasted something metallic and she realized it was from Eric's sliced lip, she ran her tongue over the cut and a guttural growl erupted from the Viking. Eric hooked an arm on her waist as he molded her body to his. He didn't know if he wanted to curse or thank her bag that was preventing his raging manhood from pressing to her stomach.

His fingers entwined with a lump of her hair and her already loose braid offered no resistance to the Viking's ardent digits.

Sookie flung her arms on his neck and her fingers got lost in his soft dark blonde hair. She couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips and it was all the motivation he needed to deepen their kiss as he tilted his head. His hands made their way to cup her face and Sookie crossed her arms around his neck. Neither of them wanted to let go. Both afraid one of them would break away.

Sookie was starting to feel lightheaded and she knew she needed to let a little oxygen back into her system. She untangled her arms around him and slowly, ever so slowly, drew her face back. Eric groaned in protestation as he started nipping on her lower lip, sucking it, biting it lightly. He felt her smile against his lips and that was when he finally decided to let her go.

His hands remained clasped against her cheeks as he rested his forehead with hers.

"See, I told you you're gonna prove me wrong," she hushed between shallow pants.

Eric grinned without a trace of mockery. "I stand corrected."

The Viking decided she had had enough time to catch her breath as he motioned to latch onto her lips again when an alien sound emanated from his stomach.

It grumbled.

Sookie's eyes darted to his gut and his hands covered it protectively. He looked like a child as he forced himself to look unaffected but failed miserably.

"You're hungry." It wasn't a question. That sound was not foreign to Sookie and she couldn't count how many times she had forced Jason to put something in his belly when all they had was a three-day casserole.

"Even my gut was trying to prove you wrong, Miss Stackhouse. I clearly remember you telling me that I'm a kind of person who doesn't get hungry." He smirked playfully.

Sookie rolled her eyes in mock derision before she wriggled her body that was trapped between the door and his huge frame.

"You have to eat."

"It can wait," he said as he blocked her with his long sturdy arm.

"No. It can't." She snatched his arm and moved it out of the way. But Eric would have none of it as he seized her by the waist again and hugged her closer to him. She yelped in surprise as she shot daggers at him.

"I'll cut you a deal," he hushed as the tip of his nose trailed to the length of her neck, which gave her tiny goosebumps all over her skin. Sookie was grasping desperately at the last line of defense she had. Her eyes fluttered and her breath hitched as he started dropping fleeting pecks on the nervy flesh of her neck. "I'll call room service and we can continue doing this until we _come_, I mean _they_ come."

The roguish humor in his voice broke Sookie's disturbing lustful reverie. She was aware of the Viking's wicked sex appeal and she knew if she were to escape this night with her hymen still intact she had to get him out of his comfort zone.

"How about I do you one better?" she asked as she tried to pull away from his distracting ministrations.

"You'll _do_ me?" An impish glint in his devilish blue eyes.

Sookie huffed as she pressed her palms against his chest in an effort to put a little more distance from him. "Your perversion knows no bounds."

"Hey, don't hate the player. Hate the game."

Sookie bit her lip as her heart lurched to her stomach. It _was_ a game. Everything was a game to him. She fought the urge to go off on him as she nursed her bruised ego. The minute she decided to go to the North was also the time she decided to chuck the boxing gloves away. She would take the high road. No more fighting.

"I'll cook. I understand you have a 24-hour kitchen?" she offered after a few seconds. "Think of it as my peace offering."

Eric eyed her dubiously, as though he was waiting for the punch line. When all he could see was earnestness with a hint of levity he couldn't fight off the grin that crept up his suspicious face. He went to his bedside table and dialed room service. Without offering any explanation he ordered the cooks to vacate the kitchen for his disposal. Before Sookie could change her mind he took her hand and led her out of the room toward the vast cookhouse downstairs.

As per Eric's order, the enormous galley – the biggest she had ever seen or been in - was empty and Sookie chose the small corner with a marble table top and a four-burner stove across it. Eric grabbed a stool as he watched her hunt for ingredients in the stocked pantry with such giddiness. After a few minutes she came back with a selection of food items in her tray. He asked if he could help out of courtesy.

"You can wash the pans later if you like," Sookie deadpanned.

Eric chuckled as he shook his head furiously. "I was just being polite. I didn't realize you're going to punish me for it. Besides, these hands are not made for washing anything breakable."

"I beg to differ, Mr. Northman," she shook her head. "I think your abrasiveness is enough to scrub even the crustiest pans," she quipped as she diced green bell peppers all the while keeping her face serious.

"Ha! So now, I'm abrasive!" he retorted.

Sookie nodded frantically without taking her eyes off the chopping board.

Eric moved toward her and hugged her from behind. He couldn't get enough of how good her hair smelled as he buried his nose on top of her head. "Would you say I'm an asshole, Miss Stackhouse?"

"Oh, no! Of course not!" she said with faux indignation. "Not to your face. But in my head that's your middle name," she added as she tried to stifle a giggle.

Eric whirled her around and Sookie had the sense to drop the knife on the board as she faced him. He was about to capture her parted lips when his stomach rumbled like thunder. He swore the next time it interfered with his plans with the elusive girl in front of him he would punch himself in the gut.

Sookie shooed him back to his stool as she resumed her task. Since it was technically morning, she opted for breakfast. She whipped out a batter for buttermilk pancakes accompanied with cheese and ham omelette with a sprinkle of _brunoised_ bell pepper. (Yes. She now knew how to make perfect _brunoise_, thanks to Marco Alfonso)

Eric stared unabashedly at his personal cook and Sookie would cast a disapproving glare at him every now and then. But he never wavered as his eyes never left her. He would marvel at how solemn her face would get when she was focusing on a task. He would shift uncomfortably in his seat every time her tongue would dart out to moisten her lips. Fuck, those lips. He could just kiss her all day and he would still feel like he accomplished something life-altering.

Finally their meal was ready. Sookie placed two plates in front of him and Eric surveyed it like it was a bomb that would explode any second.

"How do I know this isn't just an elaborate scheme to kill me?" his voice was serious and doubtful but his badly disguised smile betrayed him. Sookie stopped herself from pouting as she snatched the plate and started digging into the scrambled eggs.

Eric gawked at her before he chuckled.

"If I were trying to poison you, Mr. Northman, I would have done so the first time you ate at Fiordilatte," she spat as she continued chomping on the dish, keeping her look of abject indignation for effect.

Eric seized the platter from her and set it on the table top before he captured her lips. Small pieces of mashed eggs and ham were still clinging in the inside of her cheek. If she were any other woman, he would have been grossed out but because she was _her_ he savored every nibble and flavor with gusto. He thought maybe he would have to eat scrambled eggs more often just to remember how absolutely sublime he felt at that exact moment.

"Mmm… This is good. You should do this for a living," he teased as he scarfed down the pancakes.

Sookie couldn't help but smile at his remark. He could really be stupidly charming. She forced herself to turn her attention back to her food. _'I don't have a heart. I don't have a heart. I don't have a heart,'_ she reminded herself.

They finished their meal despite Eric's _rude_ interruptions that Sookie didn't mind at all. And by the time they were done and were putting the dishes in the machine (yes, she eventually convinced him to help her with the menial chore) it was almost half past four and some of the morning staff were peeking anxiously in the cookery.

They were on their way to the service lift en route to his suite when Sookie turned to him. "I have to go. I have to be at the restaurant before ten for the lunch shift."

Eric instantly froze. _'Don't!'_

"You don't need to go to work today. I know your boss, I'm sure he'll allow you to take the day off with the right amount of convincing. Stay. I'm sure I have a room to spare." He smirked before his hand searched for hers and Sookie, without even realizing it, entwined her fingers with his.

Her hand was rougher than the ones he was used to hold. It was a little dry and when he ran the pad of his thumb on her palm he could trace deep lines and soft bumps on the edge.

But he liked her hand. It was a working hand. One that could tell him stories. Anecdotes that could hold his attention for hours on end.

"Oh, I don't know about that. My boss…" she paused as she snapped her fingers together as if struggling to find the perfect adjectives to describe him. "He's the worst."

"The worst?"

"The absolute worst," she stressed. _'And he would be the death of me.'_

* * *

**E/S**

"Only if I can drive you," That was the farthest he could compromise when they got back to his suite. She had left her bag at his room, which he insisted by the way. It was good pre-emptive measure on his part. He thought if she left it there she would have a reason to come back.

"Fine. But you can't go up," she countered. Heaven only knew how Eric Northman's mind worked and if she gave him an opening like an empty apartment, he would lunge at it like a hungry prey.

Eric glanced at her before he shook his head in frustration. Nothing was ever easy with her. She would always find a way to drive a hard bargain. In the end he yielded. She won – he would always let her win – and they drove off to her house.

Their drive was excruciatingly short and Eric deliberated turning the car around when they got near her street. He didn't want to let her go yet. Not just yet. He thought of all the times he had been with her and how he had always despised saying goodbye. Would it ever get easy? Letting her go? He had no fucking clue.

It was still dark but the sky was already turning a shade of soft gray in the horizon. She reached for her seatbelt but Eric stopped her. "I want eggs."

She furrowed her brows as she threw him a baffled look.

"I want eggs for lunch."

Her face lit up as she finally understood. A shameless grin broke across her face before she could catch it. Damn, her heart that wasn't supposed to exist was thumping wildly in her chest. Maybe if she spoke louder he wouldn't hear it.

"Goodbye, Mr. Northman." She leaned in for a farewell peck on the cheek but Eric jerked his head back, eluding her, gawking at her in disbelief.

"Mr. Northman?" he repeated tartly. "Don't you think we're way past that bullshit now?"

Sookie could feel warm blood flooding her cheeks at his blatant phrasing. But he was right, the moment of uncertainty had already passed and she could no longer hide behind her impenetrable walls.

"Okay."

"And I get to call you Sookie. It's not really fair how everybody else can but me." He rolled his eyes in a snobbish kind of way that made Sookie smile in spite of herself.

"Will that be all oh great one?" she asked with an equal amount of sarcasm and amusement.

He knew he had more things to say. He was certain he needed to tell her to stay away from Victor Madden and Russell Edgington, but for reasons he couldn't quite fathom he didn't want to burst their little bubble by mentioning those horrible creatures. There would be time for those vile things later.

He kissed her one last time before he unwillingly freed her. He would have more later. Oh, yes, he definitely would. He watched her sprint out with seemingly wobbly legs and he let out an audible sigh as he thought of how ridiculously, stupidly, happy he felt.

'_What have you done, Sookie?'_ Yes, it was Sookie now. Not she or her, but Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse. The one that drove him crazy in every imaginable way possible.

He stared at the space where she disappeared into long after she was gone.

'_Sonofabitch, I'm a goner.'_

* * *

**E/S**

"You're right. It seems Eric has found a new charity case," Nora spoke between sobs as she paced frantically in her room. She was done thrashing the place. The lamps, wine glasses and magazines were scattered on the carpet and there was an ugly hole smack in the middle of the television set. The pillows and the bed had been slashed and airy, white feathers were fluttering all over.

There would be hell to pay for what Eric had done to her.

When he left her that night she compelled herself to sober up. She took a long leisurely bath as she waited for the alcohol to somehow dissipate. When she felt she was presentable enough, she slathered herself with Eric's favorite lotion before she put on her expensive fur coat to cover her nakedness. She brought the heavy coat with her just for Eric. Fur on flesh had always been the Viking's weakness and she knew it damn well.

It took a lot of bribing but she somehow managed to extract Eric's whereabouts from a new room attendant. She found out he wasn't at the Luxor but at the North. She took that as an invitation as she made her way to his suite. She was about to knock when he heard him talking to somebody with a laughable provincial twang. She ducked in the emergency exit at the far end of the hall when she heard them move toward the door.

Her jaw clenched as she watched Eric act like a fucking schoolboy who couldn't keep his hands off the blonde trollop who looked like something that got stuck at the heel of her shoe. They were waiting for the elevator and when she saw the Viking lift the tramp's face to plant a lingering kiss on her, Nora almost screamed at the top of her lungs.

As they boarded the metal contraption she caught a glimpse of the whore's face and she gasped when she recognized her as the imbecile dealer at the Mandalay. The tip she received was right. Eric had an unusual affiliation with that particular dealer.

"You're sure?" the man on the other line asked in a deep gravelly voice.

"Positive."

"Good. That's good. I want you on the first flight out of the country. You wouldn't want to be around when the Viking found out what I was about to do with _his_ whore," he grumbled. "Excellent job, Nora. I'll wire the money to your account in London."

"Keep it. I just want Eric."

"Don't we all?" The line disconnected before Nora could reply.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters.**

***Ducks head, and peeks* anybody there? *Waves white flag* The author is asking for a momentary ceasefire as she goes out gather food.**

**THANK YOU all so much sticking around and showing some love even though I'm being a cynical jerk. I love, love, love you all so much! Thank you!**

**SadieSwirl, girl you're a rock star!**


	20. Chapter 20

Sookie covered her mouth, stifling another yawn, as she pushed the swing door of the kitchen at Fiordilatte with still five minutes before 10am. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the harsh fluorescent light of the busy kitchen.

Terry waved his filleting knife at her as he called her over to his station. She pointed toward the employees' break room with her thumb and Terry nodded his acknowledgement.

Sookie was greeted by an equally-sleepy Holly who was busy reapplying her lipstick and smoothing her hair into a tight bun. She opened her steel locker and hung her bag inside before she changed into her chef's whites. Sookie gathered her still damp hair into a ponytail as she stared at the full length mirror behind the door.

"How was your first day at the Mandalay, sweetie?" Holly asked as they both stared at their reflection.

Sookie shrugged. "It was okay, I guess," she lied. She made it sound mundane even though the events of the past night were anything but. She was not yet ready to give her friend a blow-by-blow account because she was still trying to wrap her mind around the sheer absurdity of it.

She rubbed her drooping eyes that were begging for a few more hours of sleep. She was suppressing another yawn when she remembered the reason why she was short on snooze. She ran the pad of her thumb over her lips and she couldn't help the gleeful smile that crept up her face as she shivered with excitement.

"What the cod is that look?" Holly asked in a chastising but inquisitive voice.

"What?" Sookie asked defensively. She could feel herself blushing and she wanted to kick herself for it. She schooled her features to look unconcerned as she tried to dodge Holly's scrutinizing eyes.

"You got laid, didn't you?" Holly badgered. Sookie bit her lip as she shook her head furiously. She was sure she wasn't smiling but the warm fuzzy feeling inside her was making her squirm.

Fortunately for Sookie, Marco's booming laughter snapped her out of her uncharacteristically girlish trance. Sookie and Holly whipped their head toward the door as they hastened their primping and dashed out the quarters.

Sookie didn't know which was more funny, the way her jaw dropped to the floor when she saw him or the way he stopped talking mid-sentence when she appeared. It was as though something ethereal passed and for a fleeting moment everything and everyone became a blurry haze.

Thankfully, Marco was there to reprise his role as Eric Northman's perpetual savior. The chef eyed the stupefied couple with an amused look before he nudged Eric's shoulder, making the Viking realize it was rude to stare. Especially when there was an audience around.

"Sookie! Look who decided to finally grace us with his presence!" Marco tilted his head toward Eric.

"Miss Stackhouse." Eric gave her courteous nod, blatantly ignoring the equally stunned Holly beside the Southern Belle. A ghost of a smile flitted on his perfectly composed face and Sookie fought the urge to break into a loony grin.

He looked dapper, as usual, in a dark blue suit and crisp white shirt. He wasn't wearing a tie – that must be his attempt at a casual look, she thought - and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. _'Dog burn it! Do you really have to look _that_ good every single time?'_

"Mornin', Mr. Northman," she replied in a guarded tone. Holly also gave the Viking a perfunctory nod before she scrambled to the pasta station.

Sookie could feel the tension in the air as she made her way to her station while deliberately avoiding locking eyes with the Viking.

She bit the inside of her cheeks as the back of their hands grazed _accidentally_ and she prayed to all the patron saints she knew that her face wouldn't turn beet red and give away her mask of cool indifference. She could feel Eric's eyes following her as she grabbed her knife and started sharpening it with the honing steel.

Just as Eric was about to make his way toward Sookie the door leading to the dining hall burst open and Pam stormed inside the kitchen followed by Selah, both wearing a similar scowl. Pam jolted when she saw the Viking.

"Eric! What- What are you doing here?"

"You're late," he said curtly.

"I-I was talking to Selah in the dining hall," Pam argued and Selah, who was glaring brazenly at Sookie twitched in her feet when Eric turned to her.

Marco, who was the ultimate diffuser, laughed heartily. "You shouldn't be surprised at all, Pamela. We both know Eric is the kind of boss who turns up early when you're late and doesn't show up when you're early."

The Italian chef's humorous remark didn't assuage Pam's agitated stance as she turned her attention to Sookie. Pam had just spent a good half hour berating Selah for failing to inform her of Sookie's second job. And the last time she saw Eric, he was ready to snap Roman's neck for his grave oversight.

Selah caught Sookie's eyes from across the room and she motioned for the kitchen assistant to follow her out back. She was ready to give Sookie a thorough lashing for ruining her day so early in the morning. She would not be blamed for her stupidity, Selah thought.

Sookie was inching toward Selah when Eric called her. "Miss Stackhouse, a word?"

Pam turned her head at the Southerner and her reproachful eyes became softer as she tried to send Sookie a reassuring nod.

Without another word, Eric and Sookie made a beeline to his office. Pam and Selah were sure Sookie would be scorched for her grievous mistake and Pam couldn't help but feel sorry for her banter partner, while Selah's expression turned into prim arrogance.

But what the hell did they know.

* * *

**E/S**

As soon as Sookie closed the door Eric pressed her against the door and Sookie only managed a gasp before the Viking fastened his eager mouth on hers.

It didn't take long before they both found their rhythm and their lips danced with synchronicity. Eric was passionate and Sookie was not one to be outclassed as their tongues clashed in a fight where both of them were winners. They were both gasping for air when Eric ripped his lips apart from hers.

"Is this how you greet your employees, Mr. Northman?"

"Only the annoying ones."

"Annoying?" she inquired challengingly.

"Like hell." He smirked before he started nipping on her lower lip. A sigh escaped Sookie as Eric ran his fingers at the back of her neck while Sookie stroked the length of his back, feeling the taut muscles underneath the smooth fabric of his suit.

'_God, I missed you,' _he thought.

They were back in their little bubble when a knock on the door startled them. Eric looked like he was ready to choke whoever it was on the other side of the wooden barricade when Sookie ducked her head and untangled herself from the Viking's grasp.

But Eric was not yet done with her as he caged her with both arms. Sookie gently shoved him as her fingers intentionally skimmed the silky fabric of his button-down shirt. Eric arched his eyebrow, obviously pleased with her not-so-subtle caressing. She felt her cheeks flare up as she looked away to hide her chagrin.

"Eric," Pam called out with urgency.

Sookie made quick work smoothing her hair and jacket before she gestured for him to open the door. Eric shook his head defiantly. But when Pam called out again, he knew he had to deal with his second-in-command or she and the rest of the staff would be suspicious. He ran his fingers through his hair as he let out an exasperated grunt.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie's insides were a labyrinth of emotions ever since Eric Northman made his appearance at the restaurant. She was constantly distracted, aware of the fierce set of eyes that were following her movements. Even Terry, who wasn't much of an observer, noticed her consternation. She only gave him an apologetic shrug as a response. She was not about to let anyone be privy to her frowned-upon relationship with the boss.

'_Relationship?'_ Sookie thought in bewilderment. It wasn't a relationship. She wasn't so foolish to delude herself that Eric Northman would like to form some sort of _relationship_ with her.

Then what were you doing with him, a nagging voice asked her. Sookie had no clue. But she was done overanalyzing everything. She was turning a new leaf and part of that transformation was acquiring a sense of _joie de vivre_ or _carpe diem_ or in Pam's words: _live a little_ or in Jason's eloquent phrasing: _ah, to hell with it!_ Whatever was deemed appropriate to describe what she was having with Eric Northman was good enough for her.

After Marco was done teaching her how to make a risotto, Eric called her back to his office.

He was behind his desk and she chided herself for the dissatisfaction she felt when he didn't make a move toward her.

She took the seat across from him. He was shuffling through a number of receipts on his desk and didn't look up to meet her gaze when he asked her for her mobile phone number.

"I don't have one," she replied casually.

Eric lifted his head and stared at her with a look of utmost incredulity. "I gave every staff a cellphone. Don't tell me you didn't get one."

"I did. But I don't know how to use it."

"What are you, a Luddite?" he asked in puzzlement.

"I'm not opposed to new technology. I just don't see the reason why I should have one. Unless I'm expected to run back here for some carrot-dicing emergency, I don't think I need it. You can have it back, if you want. It's collecting dust in my apartment anyway."

'_Aaand she's back.'_

Eric took a deliberate breath to show her that he took umbrage to her retort. "I'll teach you how to use it. Just promise me you'll bring it with you wherever you go from now on."

"But its way too fancy, Eric," she protested and the Viking was surprised to hear her say his name for the first time.

He stood up from his chair and was squatting in front of her in a flash. "Say it again," he pleaded.

"What?"

"My name. Say it again."

Sookie snorted before she shook her head. Now she was starting to see what women meant when they referred to the Northman charm. _'Dammit! Be still!'_ she scolded the damn organ in her chest that was beating like a drum.

She stared at the Viking who was looking expectantly at her. She heaved a sigh before she whispered, "Eric."

He ran the back of his hand on her cheek before he murmured, "again."

"Eric."

"Again."

"Eric."

He couldn't hold the urge any longer as he sealed her lips with his. Their kisses always varied. Sometimes it was hesitant, uncertain. Sometimes it was rough and possessive. Sometimes it was playful and teasing. But every single one was more memorable than the last.

The lunch shift was in full swing and he reluctantly let her go again. He knew he had to go back to the North anyway. Before he left for Fiordilatte, the concierge gave him a call informing him that Nora had already checked out that morning and that she left quite a mess in her wake.

Eric didn't let the concierge go into a detailed account of the wreckage. He only instructed him to have the room fixed as soon as possible and to direct the bill to Pam. Everything was falling into place and he couldn't be happier. Nothing could put a damper on his day. Not even a Nora tornado.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie managed to grab a four-hour sleep before she headed to the Mandalay for her 10pm to 4am shift. By the time her shift was done her hips were aching from sitting down for six hours straight with only a 15-minute break every two hours.

As she was walking toward the nearest bus stop, she couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't feeling the exhaustion she was expecting from the hectic day she had. She should have been tired to the bone but curiously enough, she wasn't. There was even an odd lightness in her footing that she practically skipped as she tried to catch the first bus that was going to her route. Must be some hormonal glitch, she decided.

Then, as if answering her baffling question, she saw _him_. The reason behind her unusual flippancy

Leaning languidly against a dark gray Land Rover was Eric Northman, wearing a loose, plain black shirt, stone-washed ripped jeans and a baseball cap over his head.

'_Now, _that_ right there is a casual attire.'_

Hands in his pockets he walked toward her with his unmistakable swagger. She thought if he were trying to disguise himself by wearing plain clothes then he might as well ditch his trademark 'I'm sexy and I know it' walk as well or his cover up would be all for naught.

"What are you doing here?" she hushed. Mirth sparked in her eyes at the sight of him.

"You owe me breakfast. I want eggs."

And just like that the 'very very early bird breakfast' tradition was born.

* * *

**E/S**

In the span of three days they had managed to form a routine. He would meet her at Fiordilatte before her shift starts for their morning _niceties, _he would leave before lunch service begins and he would fetch her at their meeting place behind the Mandalay parking lot after she gets off from the casino a few minutes after four in the morning.

They would go to the North where Sookie would make him breakfast. She was always eager to show off a new skill she acquired from Marco or her other coworkers and Eric would watch her with amused patience as she prepared him his most-awaited meal of the day.

No matter what new dish she would cook, Eric would always ask for ham and cheese omelette and Sookie would always ask him why. And his reply would always be a shrug. Sookie felt there was something significant with that dish and she couldn't shake off the feeling that it was sentimentality of their first meal together.

Their early morning tryst had become a thing of a habit that the crew had put a divider in their favorite spot in the kitchen so the staff could start working for the breakfast service while the couple were cocooned in their nook. Sookie didn't mind sharing the kitchen because it kept Eric's aggressive nature in check.

But Eric didn't. He liked his privacy. He had a reputation to protect with his staff, after all. He was the aloof boss that never socializes with the help. He was the chief who barked orders and expect it to be done as quickly as he took his next breath. He was the man behind the suit who had never ever stepped foot inside the kitchen. He was the Viking who never let anyone - aside from the handful of people he trusted – get within arm's length and see beyond the mask of apathy he wore all the time. He was Eric fucking Northman. The name said it all.

And because of his fucking billing he had to keep the smooching to a minimum. He had to contend with sneaking in a peck or two at the cheek when he felt no one was looking. And it wasn't satisfying for him. Not at all.

Their first night was rather quiet and relaxing. Sookie tried her hand on basic mushroom risotto and it came out better than she had anticipated. They talked about Marco and his hilarious escapades with Eric.

The time when they pretended to be penniless artists in Florence to see who gets to score with the landlord's daughter. Eric won with very minimal effort.

Or the time when Marco disguised himself as the Prince of Belgium and Eric was his humble chauffer. It was pathetic and downright atrocious because Marco's thick Italian accent was a dead giveaway. And also because Prince Philippe was among the guests in the gala. But the dynamic duo still managed to debauched the promiscuous nieces of the Duke of Edinburgh.

"Don't you ever wonder if you've somehow left a trail of illegitimate children all over Europe?" Sookie teased. There was a slight tugging inside her as she thought of Eric sleeping around. But she ignored it. She didn't have a jealous bone in her body, she reminded herself. And she wasn't about to grow one now.

She contemplated the way she had reacted in regards to Nora and she dismissed it as more of repulsion than jealousy. The way Nora was throwing herself at Eric was abhorrent and the hussy was doing every woman out there a disservice, Sookie reasoned.

Surprisingly, though, not all stories that involved the two Casanovas revolved around their womanizing ways. Eric also told her about the time Marco opened his restaurant and how the Italian chef mucked up almost every dish he served because he was so tensed with all the food critics that swarmed the place.

Sookie had trouble imagining the self-assured Marco, she had gotten accustomed to, to fall face flat under pressure. But it was somehow comforting that even the master had his not-so-shining moments after all.

Eric then asked her if she brought her mobile phone and Sookie shook her head while arguing that she wasn't expecting to see him after her Mandalay stint.

The Viking gave her a stern look. "Bring it tomorrow at the restaurant," was his exasperated response.

Sookie repressed a grin before she nodded her assent.

After they had their meal at the kitchen at half past six, Eric asked her to come back up with him because the galley was getting crowded and he didn't like all the curious looks they were getting.

But Sookie declined and asked if he could bring her home. With a heavy heart, Eric agreed. He decided he had to take small careful steps with her.

"About your father's loan…" he said without looking at her as he parked in front of her apartment.

Sookie, who was leaning forward for her goodbye smacker, jerked her head back as she stared at him. "Don't," she snapped.

Eric knotted his brows as he turned to her.

"I know what you're thinking, Eric. And I'm telling you, please, _don't_."

"Why does this not surprise me?" Eric mumbled. "If that's the only reason you took that job at the Mandalay -"

"It's not," she cut him. "Believe me it's not. And it's not me being me stubborn. It's me asking you to let it go because I can't deal with it right now. I know you have this impulse - this strange hero complex - where you feel compelled to save the people who you think need your help. But I'm asking you – _begging_ you—not to. Shut that freaking voice that urges you pay off my loan. Please. If you respect me enough, you _will_ let it go."

Eric cradled her face with his huge hands as he studied her. "I don't want you to work there, Sookie. If you don't want to take money from me, then work for it. You can work at any of my casinos, it doesn't even have to be at the North. You can have your pick. Just not _there_."

Sookie sighed as she leaned into his hand. She closed her eyes as she let the warmth of it soothe her. She had to tell him something and she wouldn't be able to say it with him staring at her with his piercing blue eyes. She placed a hand on top of his and turned her head slightly to place a soft kiss in his palm.

If she had been watching him she would have seen him jolt as he took a sharp breath. She would have seen the wild look in his eyes as he tried to remain calm under her ministration.

After a few charged seconds she pulled his hand from her face and dropped it into her lap.

"The first time Victor Madden talked to me, he asked me if I were related to the _late_ Corbett Stackhouse. He's the first person I talked to that knew of my father's death. He _knew_ what happened to him, Eric. And I have to know what he knew."

His shoulders sagged as he yanked his hand away. He leaned on his seat as he pinched the bridge of his nose. That was exactly what he was afraid of. He debated whether to tell her that he already knew of Long Shadow's affiliation with Victor Madden and Russell Edgington.

But he knew her too damn well.

He knew how she lacked the self-preservation instinct when it came to her father and that if he told her that Long Shadow was working for Victor then he might as well pushed her into the snake pit himself. He had to find another way to get her out of there without her knowing about Edgington.

He begrudgingly nodded his acquiescence. "You know sometimes I wonder why I even bother arguing with you."

"Then don't." She smiled before she clasped her hand on the back of his head and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

* * *

**E/S**

Their second breakfast rendezvous was fiasco.

Sookie wanted to impress Eric with her flambéing skills so she decided to whip up a batch of crepe suzette. She had been very careful following the recipe down to the last drop of brandy she poured in the pan. What she didn't count on, though, was Eric's meddling ways. When she went to get the blowtorch from the pantry, he added two more shots of brandy that by the time Sookie lit the pan it burst into flames that caused a small fire in their station. Thankfully, her reflex was flawless as she dropped the pan on the floor as soon as it was engulfed in flames. She grabbed her apron and started thumping the fiery pan.

Eric was a nervous wreck after that small incident. His panicky state caused everyone else to jump at a slightest provocation. He even called the in-house medic to attend to Sookie although she kept insisting she wasn't hurt at all. He never cracked a single smile since then as he apologized profusely to the Southern Belle.

He even roused Pam with a frantic phone call telling her that Sookie wouldn't be able to go to Fiordilatte that day despite Sookie's protestations. (Sookie still went to work that day anyway.) He insisted that she stayed at the hotel but she refused. When he brought her home that morning he was still high strung and Sookie decided she had had enough of his sulking.

"Eric Northman, if I hear one more sorry from you I'll punch you right in the throat!" she scolded him with a tone her gran used every time Jason would go home drunk like Sinatra.

Her rebuking earned her a soft chuckle from the Viking and she finally got him to plant a Northman smacker on her fervent lips before they parted ways.

Despite her constant reminder to herself to stay immune to his charms, she couldn't help but grow fond of the Viking. It was the little things he did that were making her resolve crumble.

The way he would glare at her like a spoiled little brat whenever she would ask him to share his omelette.

The way he walked with a certain swagger that could make him look devastatingly handsome even if he were wearing the simplest of clothing.

The way the dimple on his chin would deepen when he laughed at something she said that wasn't supposed to be funny.

The way his eyes soften when he talked about his father and his small circle of friends.

The way his hand would always find a way to touch her. Be it her shoulder, her cheek, her hair, the skin under her lip after they shared a torrid and wet kiss.

The way his fingers ran through his hair when he was nervous or anxious.

The way he put his thumb between his teeth when he was listening intently to her mindless drivel.

Sookie realized that even his smug smirk was not so annoying anymore.

She discovered Eric Northman, god complex aside, was actually a decent human being. Probably more reputable than half the men she knew from Bon Temps.

Aside from his occasional innuendos, he never tried to take advantage of her. His perpetually moving hands never wandered in the off-limit regions. There was this one time on their first night when his hand accidentally grazed her thigh when he was laughing so hard.

For a fleeting second, Sookie thought he would take that as an opening and carry on. But she found herself mildly disappointed when he crossed his arms against his chest and pretended nothing gauche ever happened. If it weren't for her keen sense of sight she would have missed how he discreetly moved an inch further from her.

Before the flambéing disaster, Eric had taught her how to navigate the complex contraption that was her mobile phone. The intimidating piece of metal didn't seem so daunting in Eric's nimble fingers. He even taught her how to take photos with it and with her as the model. She was not the photogenic type and she was always self-conscious in front of a camera. So whenever she felt Eric trying to snap a photo of her with his phone, she would cover her face or turn her head sharply to the other side.

With Eric's relentless attempts, she finally caved and allowed him to take one decent picture. But under the condition that he would be in the photo, too.

Their picture came out better than she had wished for. Eric was ravishing as usual with his signature smoky eyes and lopsided smirk and Sookie looked innocent like a doll with her doe eyes and golden locks that fell loosely on her shoulder. While Eric's smirk was smug but enigmatic, her smile was shy and unsure. She was leaning on his shoulder as though trying to bury her head in the crook of his neck as he put a protective arm on her shoulder.

It was them.

In one snapshot the camera managed to capture the complexity of their relationship in the simplicity of their gestures.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters.**

**This chapter had gotten way long. Longer than my usual looong chapters. So I decided to split them into three-parts. I'll post the next one as soon as possible and hopefully I manage to post all three before the holidays. Thank you to all who took time to read it and send me feedback. Off to tweak the next one. Love, love, love!**


	21. Chapter 21

Their third tryst was the one with the most surprises.

Sookie decided to make chicken Parmigiano and she was in the middle of rolling the chicken breast in bread crumbs when Pam, Sam and Marco crept up stealthily from behind and barged in on them in their private nook.

Eric and Sookie exchanged a look of shocked discomfort before Eric addressed the newcomers. "The fuck are you all doing here?"

"I told you he's not a morning a person," Pam said in a casual tone.

"You didn't really think you could sneak around behind our backs, did you?" Marco said with prim arrogance. Sookie silently backed away from the group as she made her way toward the pantry when Pam hooked her arm with Sookie stopping the Southerner from escaping.

"When are you going to tell us about this?" Pam waved an elegant finger between Eric and Sookie.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I need permission from mom and pop to date somebody," Eric replied with enough sarcasm for both Marco and Pam. "And I assume you're the one with the big mouth who tattled on me?" he asked the quiet Hawk behind Pam.

"Date?" Pam, Marco and Sam asked in unison.

A flicker of surprise with a hint of regret flashed in Eric's face, but it was too fleeting to catch.

"Pay up, Ravenscroft. It's over a week already. You and Zimojic lost." Sam tapped Pam at the shoulder before he extended his palm out.

Eric's eyes widened as he snapped his head toward Sookie, who looked like she had been hit by a sack of bricks. His expression darkened as he glowered at the three intruders. He knew about the bets. He wasn't oblivious to the foolishness of his friends.

He wasn't really bothered by it. But not if it would ruin his chances with Sookie. And it looked like Sam's gaffe did just that.

Sookie, aghast from the revelation, looked from Pam to Marco before she sprinted out of their alcove and into the walk-in pantry. Eric threw a death glare at Sam before he ran after the Southern Belle.

"Sookie?" Eric called out.

It was a massive pantry with floor to ceiling shelves that made it look like a small grocery.

He was peeking into the aisle with cans of beans and all sorts of flour when a small hand grabbed his shoulder from behind. He whirled around ready to face a sobbing Sookie.

She was teary-eyed, alright – but not from crying but from laughing. He found himself staring at a woman who was covering her mouth as she tried to muffle her giggles. _'Damn fuck it, she lost it.'_

"What… the hell?" he asked in bewilderment. Sookie finally managed to calm herself as she brought a finger to her lips, telling him to be quiet.

"I'm expecting you to be less cheery than this."

Sookie rolled her eyes as she continued to grin. "What am I fourteen?" she asked in a hushed tone. "Please. I've had worse. Days before prom, I found out the guys in the football team were placing a wager on when I would lose my virginity. And even then I didn't sweat it. Although when I told Jason about it, he did teach them a lesson not to make bets on his little sister that rendered their dicks useless for the night of the dance."

Eric was stunned. He had expected her to implode. But he should have known by now that Sookie wasn't like everyone else. She would always find a way to take him by surprise.

He chuckled before he cleared his throat. "Did you get to find out who won?"

"Nobody did. The bet's still on." She arranged her face to project a look of frosty indifference as she revealed to him one of her secrets.

The look of astonishment on Eric was priceless. "You're still a virgin?" he blurted before he could catch himself.

"Wow! Can you at least pretend not to be so shocked?" she snapped.

Eric gathered his jaw from the floor as he composed his features. That question did not come out right.

"But… but… you're 23," he added weakly. _'Come on! Grab a shovel and let's dig me a bigger hole.'_

"I didn't realize there's an age limit." She trained her face to look unaffected. But every word that was coming out of Eric's mouth was like a slap in the face. She should have known Eric would make fun of her once he found out she was still sporting the V-card. It wasn't like she was a prude. Well, maybe a little. But it wasn't the main reason she hadn't given _it_ up yet.

It was because she didn't have the time. As simple and as pathetic as that. She didn't have time to get herself a crush much less a boyfriend. She had scared off every boy who showed the faintest interest in her with her snarky and abrasive personality.

And when her gran died she had realized the bitter truth. That everyone would leave her someday. Her parents did and then her gran. Even Jason was bound to go. He would find himself a sweet, caring woman who would straighten him up and she would be left alone. Again.

So, why bother, she had thought. Why get into so much trouble letting anyone in if they were going to leave her eventually. That was when she started putting up her walls that could rival the fortification of Jericho.

Eric's mocking voice broke her trance.

"Let me guess, you're saving up for marriage?" he asked, snickering.

Sookie's lips pulled into a taut line before it curled into a smirk.

"Oh, please. I'm not that kind of hick. I'm just saving up for Ryan Gosling or Alexander Skarsgard. Whoever comes first, I'm not really that picky. And it's not my fault those bastards are taking too damn long to get to me!"

Eric let out a sound that was a cross between a snort and a chuckle. "That Swedish fuck and that Canadian pussy?"

Sookie slapped him hard on the chest. "Hey, watch your tongue! Those are my future husbands you're talking about!"

He grabbed both her hands and pulled her against his chest. "They have nothing against me."

He never let her utter another word as he fastened his lips on her. She struggled a little bit to keep up her indignant act before she surrendered to his demanding mouth. He was right. They had nothing against the unassailable Viking and his fervent tongue.

They were in the middle of a searing liplock when they heard someone wheeze beside them.

"Well, well, well. Sookie Stackhouse, I never thought you had it in you to dupe someone other than Eric," Pam drawled.

Eric gave Pam a murderous look while Sookie couldn't help but grin as she buried her head in his chest to cover her ruddy cheeks.

"I think it's time we have a discussion about your poorly timed interruptions, Pamela," Eric hissed.

Sookie tsked him as she clutched her arm. "C'mon, let's go. I think Sam has suffered enough."

Sam was indeed suffering as he gnawed at his fingernails nervously when Eric, Sookie and Pam came out of the pantry.

The Hawk whipped his head toward the trio. "Sookie! Sookie, I'm so sor -"

Sookie raised a finger at the fidgety Hawk as she faced him. Sam, face as white as sheet, stared warily at Sookie before stealing a glance at the Viking.

"So, how much did you win?" she asked coolly and the Hawk gaped at her in astonishment.

"You're not…" Sam asked cautiously as he dodged Eric's sharp daggers.

Sookie's bored façade crumbled into conviviality as she shook her head. "Now why would I be mad? This is Vegas, baby. The only place in the world where there's a slot machine in the women's toilet."

Pam broke into a fit of laughter. "Are you sure it's a slot machine and not a tampon vendo, Sookie?"

Marco guffawed while Sam laughed nervously. "You sure, you're not…?"

"Sam, if I get mad at you then who will be the Mulder to my Scully?" Sam beamed at Sookie, finally appeased with her response.

Eric, who didn't like the knowing looks Sookie and Sam were exchanging, whisked the Southerner around to meet her gaze, his face devoid of gaiety. "You're seriously okay with them betting on us?"

Sookie snorted. "I'm not a hypocrite, Eric. And for the last time, this is Vegas. The place where everything's a gamble."

Her unusual bounciness was so magnetic that found his arms snaking around her waist as he tugged her closer before he captured her lips. Sookie was dazed but conscious of their unwelcome spectators. She writhed under him as she tried to draw back. But Eric was adamant, uncompromising and he simply didn't give a damn.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! If I wanted to watch soft porn at five in the morning I would have just tuned in to HBO," Pam retorted with badly disguised amusement.

Sookie smiled against his lips and Eric could not help but chuckle himself.

What happened after that was almost surreal.

Pam had managed to book the kitchen at one of the restaurants at the North that wasn't supposed to open until lunch. Eric berated himself for not thinking of that in the first place instead of sharing Sookie with the rest of morning crew at the hotel galley.

Marco offered to prepare breakfast but Eric requested that Sookie would still make his 'usual' order. Sookie blushed furiously as she tried to evade the amused and excited looks she was sure Eric's posse were giving her.

Their small gathering was shockingly enjoyable and enlightening for Sookie. Pam and Marco would take turns bashing Eric by telling Sookie some of his unrefined moments through the years and Sookie would throw her head back as she laughed unabashedly at his historical antics.

Eric's inflated ego was taking a heavy beating but he didn't mind it one bit. Because with every embarrassing anecdote his friends - if he could still call them as such with the amount of pleasure they were getting from humiliating him – were divulging he was always rewarded with a gusty laugh or a badly suppressed giggle from Sookie.

He loved the sound of her laughter. Because he knew they were rare. Not given in generous amounts. Just like everything about her, Eric had to work hard on his knees to get what he wanted from her. So every time he could make her laugh or even snigger, he would feel a sense of accomplishment no successful business venture could ever give him.

Unlike the other women that had went in and gone out of his life, whose laughter seemed bought, superficial and mostly for his benefit, Sookie's were genuine, comforting and the scarcity of them only made him crave for more.

"What?" Sookie asked in a disconcerted tone, breaking his train of thought. She had caught him staring again. And he pulled himself out his daze. _'Sonofa! What the hell is wrong with you, Northman! Quit being a fucking pussy!'_

He straightened his back as he returned her gaze with a look of utter boredom. "What?" he asked as he feigned confusion.

"Why are you looking at me like I'm going to poof out of here any second?" she whispered as she leaned in to him.

Eric forced his trademark leer. "Aren't you?"

Sookie wrinkled her nose at him before she returned to her tête-à-tête with Sam.

Sam, who was still trying to make up for his blunder earlier, was eager to engage Sookie in a conversation as they talked about the things they shared common desire for such as Lord of the Rings or X-Files or even Harry Potter. Sookie would give Sam a high-five every now and then while nodding her appreciation with the fellow fantasy and sci-fi fanatic.

Eric couldn't help but envy Sam and how easily he could form a rapport with her. How the Hawk would blurt out something senseless to Eric and Sookie would agree with him with so much fervor. Sookie was in her zone. They were in their own world. Pam had lost a little bit of her dignity when she had the misfortune of interrupting the two class nerds by asking what the fuck they were so enthralled about. Sam replied some kind of gibberish and Pam gave him another bemused glare.

Sookie and Sam exchanged a look of mock derision before the Hawk gave Pam a condescending pat. "This is out of your league, Ravenscroft. Just go and join your other Muggle friends."

Even their horribly laughable hand gesture where they formed a 'V' by joining two fingers together, which Eric heard was called the Vulcan salute, looked attractive on her. It was childish and simple and ridiculous. It was everything Sookie.

He made a mental note to ask Sam to give him a crash course of the nerd vernacular later so he could impress Sookie the next time he saw her. Next time? When would he run out of 'next time'? When would he get tired of her? When was the expiration date of Sookie Stackhouse? He didn't want to know.

Eric's conversation with Pam and Marco turned sour as they talked about the upcoming boxing match at the MGM Grand while Sam and Sookie continued their seemingly engaging babble.

Then, ever so often Sookie would catch Eric's eyes flitting at her direction but he would turn away as soon as he was caught.

* * *

**E/S**

"So, were dating, huh?" Sookie asked coolly with a hint of levity as she stared outside through the car window. They had just pulled over in front of her building and it was almost nine in the morning. She barely had time to get a shower before she would have to go to the restaurant. She was really lacking in sleep and she was starting to feel the toll of her all-nighters weighing down on her.

But she wasn't about to cancel her very very early breakfast on Eric. If she needed to put a toothpick between her lids to keep her eyes open then god damn it she would.

Eric tensed at her query as he ducked behind his mask of ennui. He had realized that he made a slip the second it came out of his mouth. He had been crossing his fingers all morning that Sookie was too preoccupied with Sam's faux pas that she somehow missed it.

He wasn't supposed to say _that_ and she wasn't supposed to hear it. In his entire adult life he never admitted doing something as woefully pedestrian as _dating_. It was always fuck, screw, lay, bed, score, whatever synonyms there were for sex but never _date_. Never. Dates were for wusses. No one was worth the trouble.

Or so he used to think.

"Why? What do you think we're doing? Exchanging recipes for omelettes?" he retorted. _'Do you really need to sound like a fucking prick every single time? Ignore it. Ignore it, please.' _

She sighed dramatically while keeping her eyes out the window. "I always thought dating a millionaire has its perks..."

Eric was taken aback. He never even thought she would want something grand, extravagant, epic. He grabbed her shoulder and propelled her to look at him only to see mischief dancing in her eyes.

"Honestly, I expected more from you," she started. Eric was about to say something to defend himself but Sookie placed a delicate finger on his lips. "In four days you made me cook scrambled eggs without fail. We almost start a fire because you were hoping to get me drunk. (Eric had the modesty to look contrite at that statement.) And we almost made Sam pee in his pants. I haven't had a decent sleep for days and the bags under my eyes have grown as bigger than Texas and Alaska."

She pointed at her eyes and Eric couldn't see what she was talking about. She was still agonizingly enchanting.

"But in those four days you have given me a sense of normalcy I haven't felt in years. You made me feel like I'm doing something relevant. I was needed," she dropped her gaze to her lap as her fingers found his. "You made me realize that in this fucked up city, there's a place where we can still revel in the unfussiness of the little things. And it was more than I expected from you. So, thank you, Eric. It's everything I wanted and more."

Eric wished he had an eidetic memory so he could play her soliloquy in his head word for word later. He wished his fucking heart wasn't pounding so loud in his ears that he might have missed an important adnoun she just uttered. He wished he could tell her how badly he wanted her right now without sounding like a creep. He wished he could tell her he liked her. Liked her to a frightening degree. Liked her like no other.

But all that came out of him was a huff. A small gust of wind that could be easily mistaken to a derisive snort. _'What. The. Fuck. Was. That!'_

Then, as fast as the puff of air he just let out blew away, the softness in her face vanished. Disappointment flickered in her eyes before the look of prudish ennui materialized. He saw her shoulders droop before she leaned toward him. "Same time tomorrow?" she forced herself to chirp. Without waiting for his response she planted a small peck at the side of his mouth before she exited his black Corvette.

"Sonofa!" Eric exclaimed under his breath. He couldn't let her leave like that. He had to amend his misstep quickly.

He bolted out of the car as he scurried after her. Sookie's legs were shorter but were astoundingly faster than he thought. He barely made it to the elevator before she boarded it.

"What?" Sookie asked gruffly and more harshly than she had intended.

"I hate eggs!" he blurted between shallow pants. He ran his hand through his hair as he tried to muster the will to summon the words in his head and make them form one coherent sentence. Just one fucking sentence that would not make him sound like the total asshole that he was.

Sookie furrowed her brows as she stared at him expectantly. "I'm sorry if you hated them. You should have said something be -"

"Shut up and let me finish," he snapped.

Sookie's defensive shields went back up as she crossed her arms against her chest before she knotted her brows into a frown.

Eric took a deep breath before he continued. "I hate eggs. It has this funky taste that makes me want to reach for a bottle of scotch. It has a texture that disturbingly crumbles in my mouth. I hate that I don't need to chew it as much as I'd like to chew my food. I hate it," he spat before he took another audible breath.

"But I like you," he hushed as his shoulders sagged in defeat. As though he was revealing something he didn't want to admit even to himself. "I like how intense your face gets when you beat those yolks into submission. I like how you bite your lower lip when you're chopping the ham or grating the cheese. I like how your breath hitches when you toss the pan in the air, hoping against hope it won't drop on the stove or, heaven forbid, the top of my head." Eric snickered a little as though remembering that exact moment in his head.

"I like the flavor it leaves in your mouth when I kiss you. I'm sure there are more appetizing dishes that taste better with you. But those eggs…" he sighed in spite of himself. "Those damn funky eggs, they remind me that this -" he waved his hand back and forth to him and Sookie, "- is real. _This_ is happening."

Sookie was rendered speechless. What could she possibly say to top that? No freaking thing. She was frozen in her feet. Even the crease in her forehead was stuck as she felt the walls breaking, shattering inside her. She wondered how many trumpeters were needed to blow down the walls of Sookie. The answer would be none. It only took one Viking and his dopey horn.

The silence that dragged on between them was thick. Choking them. After what seemed like forever, Sookie finally broke the impasse.

"Are you done?" she asked, her brows still drawn together.

"Isn't it obvious?" Eric replied bitingly. He was also wearing a scowl - frustrated that he couldn't read her perfectly schooled expression.

"Good," was all she said before she pulled him down for a fierce kiss.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters.**

**As promised, here's the second part. The third part was a bit tricky and I found myself jumping through hoops with it. It might take a tad longer. But I would still try to finish it before we carve the bird. Thanks so so much to everyone who read this and sent me their thoughts. The amount of love I received from the last chapter just blew me away! You're all rock stars! Love, lots and lots of it!**


	22. Chapter 22

Daydreaming had never been a normal occurrence for Sookie Stackhouse. For one, she wasn't a dreamer. She was way too pragmatic for such nuisance. However, in the past few days she had been having trouble keeping herself focused enough to veer away from that particular nuisance.

Sookie could not count the times she caught herself grinning like a besotted teenager while riding the bus to work after spending time with the six-foot-four Viking. She would chastise herself to no end every time Terry or Holly would catch her with what they called her 'wistful look' while in the middle of preparing the mise en place. Sometimes she would even find herself thinking of the next dish she would cook for their breakfast date while she was in the middle of dealing the cards at her baccarat table. She was only glad her autopilot button was always reliable when she was at the Mandalay.

'_Ugh! How could someone be so freakishly annoying and distractingly irresistible at the same time?'_

That question had been gnawing at her since she and Eric Northman started seeing each other, more so today after his big speech as to how he hated eggs. She fought a grin as she alighted the bus a few blocks away Fiordilatte. She was already a few minutes late. Thanks to Eric Northman and his stupid speech, and lips, and hand…

The list could go on.

She repressed a girlish shiver as she recalled how neither of them wanted to break away from each other. She remembered how he stopped the elevator doors with his hands just so he could pull her out of the lift again for another farewell smooch. His lips, just like everything else about him, were insatiable, insistent and inviting - leaving Sookie wanting more.

'_Careful, Stackhouse. That's one dangerous slope you're climbing,' _a wary voice inside her head whispered. In her case it was one treacherous pit she was falling into.

For as long as she could remember, Sookie had always been known as the reckless man's careful daughter. Now she wondered what Jason and her friends back in Bon Temps would think of her if they ever find out she was having clandestine meetings with her boss. Her brother might have a stroke, she thought gravely. And Alcide…

Alcide, her childhood friend who warned her about Eric right from the start, would be horrified for certain. Her mind wandered back to that one night two years ago, during the first anniversary of her gran's death, when Alcide was walking her back to the farmhouse from the cemetery. Sookie decided to hang back for a little longer after Jason and the Fortenberrys left. Alcide offered to wait for her. And as they were walking idly, Alcide popped the question.

Yes. _That_ question. The will-you-do-me-the-honor-of-being-my-wife query. Alcide tried to make the inquiry sound a bit offhanded but the slight hitch in his voice and the moisture in his palm when it accidentally brushed with Sookie's upper arm, told the Southern Belle that Alcide was serious. His proposal, although sudden, was not shocking. Alcide had been continually thoughtful, sweet and kind to her, especially after her gran died. Even Jason would sporadically drop hints that Alcide was the perfect catch and he was available – always waiting.

Although Sookie had constantly liked Alcide, she just wasn't the marrying kind. She had resigned herself to a life of solitude long after her father died. And Alcide was really quite a catch that he deserved better than a jaded, pessimistic woman like her.

So she did them both a favor. She laughed at him while casually dismissing his proposal like some sort of a badly delivered punchline. For a few charged minutes Alcide was silent as he licked his bruised ego. He decoded Sookie's cipher. She would never marry. So he had put his hat on, cowboy-ed up and pretended that the awkward moment never happened. They chalked it up as temporary insanity and to Sookie's utter relief, Alcide never asked for her hand again.

Sookie weaved her fingers through her damp hair as she thumbed the knob of the back door of Fiordilatte. She let out a pocket of air through her nose as she pushed the entry way open. She was so lost in her silent but seemingly random reverie that she almost bumped into Jessica, who was on her way out.

"Sook! Nobody texted you? We're closed until Sunday. Only the line cooks are expected to be here today," Jessica screeched in her high octave voice.

Sookie fumbled to snatch her phone from her sling bag to check if anyone did send her a message. None. She looked around as she searched for the other cooks but also found none. As though on cue Selah ducked her head from her office and called her in.

Sookie sat rigidly from across the table as she stared at the head chef, waiting for whatever menial job Sookie was sure Selah would require her to do. It was always something with Selah. If she weren't lashing out on Sookie, she would ask the Southern Belle to do something extremely inconvenient for the kitchen assistant that Sookie often wondered if Selah ever liked her at all.

"I think congratulations are in order here," Selah started. Although there was no sarcasm in her tone, the slight arching of her perfectly lined eyebrow told Sookie that something was amiss.

"Chef?" Sookie asked, confused.

"Congrats! You're the new sous chef," Selah replied bitingly. The slight twitch in her left eye told Sookie that Selah was barely keeping her composure together.

"I- I don't understand? I didn't even apply for the position."

Selah scoffed. "Would you like me to spell it out for you?" she asked with thick condescension. "The management wanted to conduct a blind tasting later to look for the new assistant chef. But we both know how that 'blind' search will go. It doesn't matter what spectacular dish the veteran cooks will serve, the owner will still find a way to hand you the job, anyway. You know what they say, 'what Eric Northman wants, Eric Northman gets.'"

Sookie didn't like where this conversation was heading and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Selah continued to stare her down. "But I'm not a line cook, chef. Holly and Terry are more suitable for the post." She was trying to keep her mask of ennui although she knew without a shred of doubt that all attempts were futile at this point.

"But Holly and Terry are not sleeping with the boss. You are," Selah said in a sing-song voice.

Sookie's jaw clenched. Saving face and playing coy were no longer viable options. Selah already knew. Although Sookie wasn't technically having sex with Eric, what she was doing with the Viking was just as bad.

Selah let out a dry chuckle when Sookie remained silent. "What? You think you're so clever? Or do you think we're _that_ stupid? Everyone here _knew_, Sookie. Your little side trips to the boss's office in the morning were not really that subtle. I only hope you wash your hands before handling food, who knows what kind of _jobs_ he's asking you to perform."

The head chef's words were like fists to the face. She would have kept mum and rolled with the punches like she usually did when it came to Selah if it weren't for the chef's insinuation that Eric was _forcing_ her to do something lascivious when he had been nothing but respectful to her for the past few days.

The Southerner gritted her teeth as she welcomed the hot ire rising up inside her. She tapped her nails indulgently at the armrest of her chair before she leaned forward. "I could say insecurity really looks ugly on you, Selah. But what the hell do I know? I've never seen you wear anything else," Sookie quipped with a sardonic leer as she watched Selah's face contort into a grimace. "You are a selfish, insecure person. And what you lack in talent, you make up for being a judgemental bitch."

Selah, as Sookie discovered, was not a big fan of snark. The head chef's face turned sanguine with rage before she stood up, circled the table and grabbed Sookie by her jacket collar. "You watch your filthy mouth, you little slut! I'm not one of your whipping boys like Northman and Alfonso. I do not fall for the innocent Bambi act and neither for your smart ass drawls!"

Sookie swatted Selah's hands roughly as she leaned back in her chair. She pushed her seat backward to make room for her legs before she crossed them lazily in front of Selah.

"Firstly, Bambi is a boy. Get your facts straight before you even attempt a snappy comeback. Secondly, Eric is not forcing me to do anything. The very notion that you'd think otherwise reflects badly on how nasty your mind works. And lastly, I am not a slut. I'm not whoring myself to get ahead, because if I were, Selah, I wouldn't be gunning for sous chef. I'd be aiming at your white hat."

Selah's cackle was hollow and bitterly exaggerated. Sookie winced as she watched the executive chef do a bad impression of Cruella de Vil. "Look at you. You think you're so extraordinary because of all the hired help here, Eric Northman picks your podunk ass. You're even dumber than I think you are if you think for one second that you can replace me," Selah sneered.

"Don't tempt me, Selah. I've had it up to here -" she raised her hand above her head, "- with you so don't you dare push me. I'm from the Deep South, honey, I'm telling you I don't just bark."

Sookie knew all kinds of bullies. From the most deplorable down to the most comical. Sookie would classify Selah to be in between. The exec chef was a wretched person who had let her waspish behaviour dictate her actions that Sookie almost pitied her. Almost.

"I'm not scared of you," Selah hissed. Her retort would have been much more believable if she weren't taking small steps back toward the door and away from Sookie.

Sookie stood up as she levelled her gaze with the disgruntled chef with unwavering confidence. "Yes, Selah, you are. So here's what's gonna happen, you will give the job to either Holly or Terry because you know this restaurant will be serving trash if it weren't for them. You can fire me if you want but I am not gonna sit here and be insulted by you. I am not your bitch, _bitch_."

Sookie smoothed her jacket before she made her way to the door. "Oh, and chef, this conversation never happened." She flashed an acerbic smile before she waved at Selah. She pulled the door open and sauntered out of the office with her chin jutting out.

'_Damn it all to hell! Now I'm beginning to sound like him,'_ Sookie thought bitterly.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie tucked her hands in the pockets of her jeans to stop them from shaking. She wasn't proud of what she did to Selah, but the bitch had it coming. Selah had been very vocal about her dislike for Sookie right from the get-go. The head chef had taken advantage of her at every turn and would never miss a chance to denigrate Sookie whenever an opportunity arises. But Sookie was no martyr and she could only take so much bull before she would fight back.

The Southerner was still flushed with anger when she reached her apartment. She dropped her bag and knives' roll at the counter with a thud before she started stripping her clothes off. Somehow, Selah's words made her feel dirty as she made her way toward the bathroom. She took a long bath, scrubbing every inch of her body until her skin felt raw and tingling.

Wrapped in a towel, she reached for her bag to check her phone. Just as she had expected there were eight missed calls from Eric and three from Pam.

She shoved the phone back in her purse and not a minute later it buzzed again.

Eric.

She decided to ignore his call and let it go to voicemail. She was not pleased with him either. What Selah said was not entirely untrue. She knew what Eric was trying to do. He was trying to use his authority to manipulate Selah so Sookie could become a permanent employee at Fiordilatte. By then Sookie would have no choice but to give up her job at the Mandalay.

There was no sense reasoning with him because he just wouldn't listen. She had ultimatelybegged him to just let her be but apparently he couldn't help it. It was in his nature to be intrusive.

Her phone wouldn't stop vibrating. If it wasn't Eric, it would be Pam and later on Marco.

She changed into one of Jason's old tattered Bon Temps t-shirts and cotton pajamas. She had approximately ten hours before she had to be in her second job and she intended to put that ample time into good use and just stay in and get some much-needed rest. She would deal with Eric later when he picked her up at the Mandalay after her shift.

She was making herself a cup of tea when a loud banging at her door made her drop the carton of tea bags on the floor.

She knew who it would be and she braced herself for the battle that awaits her.

The pounding on her door ceased the second he heard her unlock the chain bolt. She took a deep breath before she pulled it open.

"Good. You're not dead," Eric spat between his teeth before he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.

Sookie kept her lips sealed as she closed the door. She went back to the counter to get her steeping tea.

"Would you care to tell me why you're not at the restaurant and why you're not answering my calls?" Eric asked in a low voice. He was calm. Terrifyingly calm.

"Restaurant's closed." She made her way to the sofa cradling her cup before she pulled her knees up to her chin and tucked her feet in the couch.

Eric followed her movements, eyeing the spot at the sofa beside her. It looked very inviting and he loathed the amount of will power it took to restrain himself from sitting next to her.

She was staring blankly at a corner away opposite him as she took small gulps of her drink. She fiddled with the string of the tea bag and the soft sloshing sound it was making was grating at Eric's nerves. He watched her take another long sip before he strode beside her.

"Can I have some of that?" he asked as he extended his hand.

"I'll make you one," Sookie replied before she stood up. Her gran would be very disappointed with her for her lack of manners.

Eric seized her by her elbow before he pried the mug from her fingers. "This one will do," he said before he dropped the cup to the floor.

Warm tea splattered on the floor and spattered on Eric's leather shoes as the cup smashed into small pieces. Sookie jumped back as she stared at the mess with wild eyes. "What the -!"

"I'm sorry, did I startle you?" he asked with faux concern.

"You're paying for that cup."

"The damage on my shoes is payment enough." His eyes roamed the inside of her small apartment and his nose wrinkled in antipathy as he took in the dump of a place she was living in. His ensuite bathroom at the North was significantly bigger in comparison to her dismal dwelling ground.

"And I bet those shoes would look good up your ass," she crooned before she pushed past him to go to the sink.

"Ah, I see. So we're back to this fuckery again," he drawled. "I was wondering when the bitch will show up. I guess I don't need to wait any longer." He moved forward to lean elegantly on the counter across her.

"Oh, Eric. You should have just told me you missed her," she cooed as she washed her hands that didn't need washing. "You could have saved us a lot of trouble."

"Care to elaborate on that? I can't seem to understand you from all the nonsense I'm hearing," was his sly response.

Sookie whipped her head in his direction. Her face flustered as she inched toward the counter. "Nonsense. Right, that's all you heard when I practically begged you not to poke your nose in my business. What the hell was I thinking? That you'd actually listen to anything but your own voice."

"If this is about Selah then you can stop acting out now. I already fired her."

"You what?!" Sookie was aghast. This was exactly what Selah meant by Eric getting everything he wanted. What Eric did just proved Selah right with her assumptions.

Eric was never fond of the head chef. She was a class A bitch and Marco had suggested a couple of other chefs that would kill to work for one Eric's restaurants. But he didn't want any other chefs, he wanted Sookie. She was still a neophyte in the field but Marco was willing to train her. She had already learned a lot under Alfonso's tutelage and Eric was sure that with her drive and talent she could unravel her full potential in no time at all.

That was why he had asked Pam to order Selah to conduct a quasi audition for the assistant chef job the other day. What he didn't consider was Selah attacking Sookie directly. He terminated Selah's contract that morning as soon as he heard what happened from Pam. That fucking bitch would not set foot in any other kitchen in Nevada. He would make sure of it.

"She was bad for business. The job is yours. Marco will help you until you're ready to go solo."

Sookie couldn't hide the disgust in her face as she spat her reply. "I think I'll pass."

"You are _that_ stubborn?" he asked as he shook his head in disbelief. "I'm giving you a once-in-a-lifetime offer here, Sookie. An offer only a fool would refuse."

"There's no such thing as an irrefusable offer, Eric. You are not the freaking Godfather!" She slammed her palms on the counter as she locked her seething gaze on him. "You can't make me take that job just because you want me to!"

Eric leaned forward, a vein in his forehead throbbed from his barely contained vexation. "Let me get this straight. You're mad because I wanted to help you? Because I wanted to make things easy for you? Well, forgive me for being such an asshole. It was so inconsiderate of me to actually _think_ you have an ambition and not just aspire to be a fucking dishwasher all your life!" He lost it. He couldn't tamp down his flaring temper anymore.

"Easy? You thought that by swooping in you could make things easy for me?" she hissed. "If I wanted easy, Eric, I could have just taken my chances in the casinos and clean those whales who had no qualms losing big bucks. I could have just taken a job as a hooker down at Fremont and sell my body to the highest bidder. I would have married Alcide and live the convenient life he had offered," she said venomously.

Eric's expression turned more spiteful as images of a certain wolfish man being beaten to a pulp flashed in his head. He pushed down the bile rising inside him from that little snippet of information he gathered as he focused his rage on her again.

"So you'd really rather work for people that are clearly beneath you than to accept help from me?" Eric asked with abject incredulity as he tried to grasp the ideology behind her logic.

"Beneath me?" Sookie gasped. She should not have been surprised to hear Eric say something so repulsively elitist and patronizing. "You think those line cooks who worked at Fiordilatte for years are _beneath_ me? God, you are so full of shit. Do you know how Holly sprained her back?" she asked not really expecting a reply. "It was from carrying crates after crates of produce every day for the past three years. And Terry, do you know that you can drill an ice pick in his right thumb and he wouldn't feel a thing because he had sliced his finger far too many times to permanently damage the nerves. Now, can you look at me in the eye and tell me that it's fair for me to take what is rightfully theirs."

Eric grabbed the back of his head before he grunted loudly. "I don't give a fuck about them! I only care about you!"

"I don't need your help. I need you to back off. I need you to let me do my thing and support me without being critical about it!" she bellowed. "I know what you're trying to do. The only reason you want me to take that job is so that I will give up my post at the Mandalay. I thought were already past all the manipulations but I guess there's no stopping you from man handling everybody just because you can't take no for an answer. How many times do I have to tell you? I need to do this by myself!"

Eric huffed in disbelief as he stared at her. "What is it exactly that you wish to accomplish, Sookie? Find your father's killer? And then what?"

"It's none of your business," she hushed with vehemence.

"None of my business? Are you fucking kidding me?" He staggered back as he took the blow. He couldn't believe that after all that had happened between them she still considered him as an outsider. Never in his life had he felt so pathetic and irrelevant. He wondered if she ever contemplated letting him in.

"You are going to get yourself killed in this mad pursuit of yours," he said after she remained mum. His voice was detached, defeated.

"I'm dead inside anyway." She was looking down at her hands on the counter. She couldn't meet his fierce eyes and see the frustration and hurt behind them.

But she was wrong. Because Eric was already numb from the lashing he got from her. She might be able to hurt him but he would be damned if he would let her see it.

"I never realized you are _that_ deranged? You have this huge daddy issue that you're willing to follow him to the grave," he forced himself to snicker. "Tell me, Sookie, say you find out who killed daddy dearest, what will you do? How far are you willing to go to exact your revenge? Can you honestly tell me that you can stare at the bastard's face and put a bullet between his eyes? Can you?"

Sookie defensive reflex shifted on autopilot as her hand flew and made its way to his face. But Eric's mechanical response was quicker as he grabbed her wrist before her palm connected with his cheek. "Is this what you're going to do, Sookie? Slap him until he says 'I'm sorry'? I don't think this little maneuver will hold. You've got to do better than that."

Sookie tugged her arm back but Eric tightened his grip. Tight enough to inflict a little pain. Sookie cursed the concrete barricade between them. She could have easily rendered him incapacitated with a knee to his groin.

"I'm not a killer!" she spat as she gritted her teeth.

"But _they_ are!" Eric bellowed. "They would not think twice putting you in the ground… or worse."

"They?"

Eric dropped her wrist as he turned his back on her. Sookie was in front of him straight away seizing his elbows. "What do you mean, _they_?"

Eric was rigid. He clenched his jaw as he stared at her dejectedly. "Tell me what you know," she commanded.

The Viking stared at Sookie and saw the vehemence in her eyes. He knew she would not yield. After a long defeaning silence, he resentfully told her what Jake Purifoy had managed to dig up about Long Shadow and the bastard's connection with the people she were working for at the Mandalay.

Sookie loosened her hold on him as she dropped her gaze to the floor. She clutched the edge of the counter because she was afraid her legs weren't stable enough to carry her weight.

The picture was getting so clear. Like she had been kept in a dark room for so long then someone suddenly flipped a switch and everything came in full view. Long Shadow, Victor Madden, Russell Edgington.

Bill Compton!

The ultimate subterfuge.

Eric was right. She wasn't prepared to open Pandora's Box. She doubted if she would ever be ready.

"Sookie…" Eric moved tentatively behind her.

"How long have you known?"

"Long enough."

Sookie turned around to face him. She was livid. Unadulterated anger boiled inside her and it needed a target. An immediate target.

"And you waited this long to tell me this?" she hissed.

Eric's concern was quickly replaced by righteous anger. Was she seriously directing all the animosity on him?

"Because I know this is exactly how you're going to react. If you have just let me pay off your debt -"

"So I can _owe_ you? No, thank you. I'm not gonna pay off one loan just to acquire another." Her words were coming out in sharp daggers, cutting a space between them. But it was too late to go back now. She couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to.

"And that's worse than owing Long Shadow?" He was beyond indignant at that point. "Well, isn't that peachy. You'd rather be indebted to someone as vile as him rather than me. Why? Because the idea of being stuck with me is so fucking revolting?"

That wasn't what she meant. She whirled around so he wouldn't see her inner struggle. She wanted to tell him he was wrong but also right at the same time. Goddamit, she wasn't making any sense and she was running out of time.

"You're wrong!" she blurted in panic when she saw him make his way toward the door.

Eric halted as he clucked his tongue. He didn't look at her as he spoke dryly. "Is that all, Miss Stackhouse?"

'_Shit!'_ Sookie thought as she heard her name roll off his tongue. He was back to using pretentious and clinical titles.

"So, you're leaving? Shocking!" she spat. If he would revert to his old arrogant self then what was the point of holding back.

Eric reached for the door knob. "Yes, I'm leaving," he snarled. "Because this is pointless. _You_ are pointless. I thought after all these years of dealing with insane women I already have a system that could actually weed out the crazies. But clearly I was mistaken."

"You'll never get it," she said in a low whisper - more to herself than to him. "I don't want to be with you because I need to… but because I want to."

Eric whipped his head in her direction. He heard every word. He took a deep breath before he gulped the nervousness that seemed stuck in his throat. "Do you?" he asked hoarsely.

Sookie met his gaze before she replied, "I do."

With quick, deliberate steps Eric was in front of her grabbing the back of her head as he latched on her parted lips. Sookie flung her arms around his neck and Eric gripped her hips and lifted her like she weighed nothing at all. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as they devoured each other's mouths like there was no tomorrow. Only here and now.

All rationalities fled out of the room as their hate mutated into passion.

He mounted her on top of the counter as he swiped her bags off the table with his free hand. His usually steady hands were trembling against her back. He fisted his hand in her hair to hold her in place as though he was terrified she would flee and vanish.

Sookie helped him out of his coat before she tugged at the buttons of his light blue shirt. It was a good thing Eric went without his tie again as she pulled his shirt out from inside his pants. Eric was breathing heavily when he pulled his lips away from hers and she whimpered from the loss of contact.

"Damn it, Sookie, you're killing me," he breathed as he cradled her face in both hands.

"Kiss me…" she whispered huskily and her hot breath warmed his cheeks. She tugged at the collar of his shirt as she tried to bring his mouth back on hers but Eric had another idea as he started leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw line. Sookie gasped when he dragged his tongue languidly from her neck to the back of her ears.

"Eric," she sighed.

He squeezed his eyes close as he tried to restrain himself from ripping her clothes apart because of the overwhelming craving he felt upon hearing her breathe out his name. He always hated it when women moan out his name. It was like they were trying too hard to feed his ego to get what they wanted from him. But for some inexplicable reason he wanted Sookie to whisper, moan and scream out his name. It was probably the Southern twang, he reasoned feebly.

His face went back up to devour her lips and Sookie weaved her fingers in his hair as she returned his kiss with the same amount of passion. Eric pressed his body closer against hers and he grunted when his erection pushed against the hard tiles of the counter. In one swift motion he hoisted her off the table and onto the sofa. Sookie managed to unbutton his shirt all the way down before she peeled it off and Eric let it fall on the floor before they collapsed onto the couch. Eric propped himself on his elbows as he hovered above her while kissing under her jaw.

Her hands fumbled for his belt and she cussed under her breath when it turned out harder than the movies made it look. She felt him chuckle against her skin and it only fueled her desire to squash his notion that she was ill-equipped in this arena. She managed to unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly in no time.

Eric paused from nipping at her neck as he looked at her. "Are you sure?" he breathed.

"Do you want me to change my mind?"

"Fuck, no!" he muttered gruffly before he tore her shirt in half revealing her bountiful breasts underneath the white cotton bra that seemed to taunt him.

His hand snaked through the waistband of her pajama bottoms and Sookie lifted her hips to encourage him. He pulled the appalling garment down with the same brute force he used on her shirt.

Eric pulled back from her as he kicked his shoes off followed by his trousers. His eyes never left hers and they were losing focus as he took in her barely-covered form. He found himself in need for air as he traced her curves with the tips of his fingers.

She was deliciously glorious as she squirmed under his gaze because of her innate shyness. She chewed on her lip as he reached out to trace his taut abdominal muscles that looked straight from the pages of Lafayette's skanky magazines. _'Not bad, Mr. Northman. Not bad at all.'_

A part of him, the primordial half that catered to his baser instincts, wanted to be inside her and take her immediately – pound into her and bend her to his will. While the rational part – the larger and louder portion – told him to tame his inner Viking and relish the moment down to her last moan and mew. And that was what he was going to do. He would savor every fucking second of it not only for his benefit but for the virgin under his mercy.

He hooked his finger on the strap of her bra and pulled it down to her shoulder. He did the same thing with the other, letting his knuckles brush against her seemingly burning skin. His palm grazed the top of her bosoms and Sookie groaned as she wriggled her body against the sofa. Eric was being excruciatingly slow. She lifted her hips to grind against his groin and she almost yelped when she became aware of its entire size. Eric jerked back as he clutched the side of her waist to plant her firmly back down on the couch. He knew she was getting impatient but he was not going to be rushed. He tsked before he ordered her to remain still.

"I'm not getting any younger here, Eric," she teased huskily.

"Shut up," he snapped before he kissed her greedily while his hand unhooked her bra and ripped her intrusive panties off. His warm mouth slithered down her breasts while his agile fingers found the flesh between her thighs.

He let out a low, raspy growl when he felt the wetness pooling in her folds. Sookie's back arched as her eyes rolled to the back of her head when he started stroking her nether lips languorously but with enough pressure to keep her on the edge.

"Eric," she breathed. "I… I… I want…"

"What?" he hushed as he reveled at her defenseless form. "Tell me what you want."

"…you" she yielded.

'_Not as much as I want you.'_

He kept on with his skilled ministrations. He was very careful not to make her come yet. He wanted her to stay passive for once. Accessible. Exposed. Vulnerable. _His_.

"Eric… please stop teasing me," she whined between shallow breaths. "… if you… don't… do it now… I swear…"

"You swear, what?" he challenged amusedly before he sucked lightly on one of her perky breasts.

That was it. Sookie had had enough of his relentless titillation as she tried to push him off her with all the strength her weak arms would allow.

Eric surged upward as he propped both his arms to her sides to cage her under him. "You can't get away from me anymore, Sookie," he said through clenched jaw before he reached for his pulsing manhood and started rubbing it in her entrance.

Sookie's eyes closed involuntarily and a moan escaped her lips. She was ready for him. For this. But nothing could have ever prepared her for the enormity of Eric Northman. She inhaled sharply when she felt him slowly enter her and Eric stopped midway as he stared worriedly at Sookie.

Sookie opened her eyes as he met his gaze. "Did I hurt you?" Concern laced his tone.

There was a ghost of a smile on her face as she shook her head. She wanted to tell Eric that she wasn't a fragile object that needed to be handled with kid gloves. But words seemed to escape her as she licked her lips.

Her euphoric trance was evident and Eric didn't need any more inspiration than that as he buried himself to the hilt inside her with gentle but deliberate thrust.

Sookie gasped when his entirety ripped through her like thunder. She bit her lip to stifle a sob when she felt a significant tearing in her flesh as her sheath tried to accommodate his full size. Eric started out slow, moving his hips in a circular motion while thrusting unhurriedly inside her. Sookie held on to his toned shoulder before Eric gripped the back of her thigh as he pushed her knee upward. His pounding was getting frenzied as Sookie moved her hips to meet his thrusts. With drooping eyes she saw Eric's jaw tense as he suppressed his orgasm. She could feel her own climax as she clawed at the skin on his back.

"Eric…" she gasped. "I'm…"

She didn't need to finish her sentence Eric knew exactly what she was about to say as he felt her walls clench around him. He was also close. Too damn close.

He was actually ready to explode the second he entered her and her fucking tight sheath had been torturing him and testing his stamina to the hilt. With all the self-control he could summon, he held it off. He would never forgive himself if he came before her.

He released his hold on her leg as he pressed his palm on the couch to support his weight before he grabbed her and latched on to her mouth for a messy kiss. He drew back so he could hear her moan again. Sookie shut her eyes as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she tried to muffle her sobs.

"Look at me," he ordered with a guttural voice as his thrusts picked up speed. Sookie shook her head and that earned her a growl from the Viking who stopped pounding altogether.

Sookie's eyes snapped open as she stared at the smirking Viking.

"That's better," he said approvingly as he started moving again, driving in and out, slowly then frantically.

It was coming: the big O. She dug her ragged nails on Eric's smooth back before her hips jerked from the very first climax that wasn't self-service.

It was like a surge of electricity curled up in her spine like icicle before a surprising kind of warmth flooded her entire body.

He felt her walls tighten around him and the squeezing sensation proved too much for the Viking as he came not a second longer. They rode their high together before they sank heavily onto the couch.

They were a tangled mess on the sofa, satisfied, spent and were in dire need of more oxygen.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie managed to cover her nakedness with Eric's crumpled shirt. She was lying lazily on top of the Viking tracing the ripple of muscles etched on his stomach while Eric was absentmindedly playing with her tousled hair wildly splayed on his chest. The sofa throw barely covered their hips as Sookie burrowed her face contentedly against him.

"What are you thinking?" he asked as he nuzzled his nose in her hair, scenting the cherry blooms in it.

Sookie propped her chin on top of his torso as she looked up at him. Although her face was blank there was a mischievous glint in her glassy eyes that he couldn't quite understand.

"That I should have waited for Skarsgard," she joked.

Eric narrowed his eyes at her before he shifted his body to the side and pinned her to the couch.

Nobody, not one girl, had the audacity to mock him before, during or after sex. Especially after sex. Only her. And she would be severely punished for it.

Sookie let out a high-pitched squeal as Eric started nipping at her flesh. From her collarbone to her sensitive nipples to the side of her ribs to that ticklish part on her waist down to the side of her inner thigh and eventually to her sore center.

Sookie shrieked as she tried to pull him back up while crossing her legs together. "What are you doing?"

Of course, she knew what he was doing. She might be a virgin - _had been_, she corrected – but she wasn't naïve. As tempting as the idea might be, her inhibitions were getting in the way.

Eric climbed on top of her as he started nibbling at her earlobe. "What am I doing, Sookie?" he purred and the vibration of his voice made the hair at the back of her neck bristle with anticipation. "I'm going to ruin you for other men."

'_The way you're ruining me,'_ he almost added.

Without missing a beat, Eric went down on her and gave Sookie, two, three more earth-shaking orgasms that were Eric's way of telling her, 'let's see Skarsgard top that.'

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters.**

**Whew! That damn long chapter is finally done. Sorry, didn't expect to be so swamped with real life stuff. Was supposed to post it last Thursday but I didn't get the chance to get back to it before the holiday craziness came.**

**I know, I know, my lemons aren't citrusy enough. So let me just direct your attention to the pros like JoXx and Missy Dee. Or better yet, check out leivasquez . wordpress . com to get easy access on the best lemony goodness that features our favorite Viking. **

**On to the grown-up talk later…**

**Thank you SadieSwirl! All other mistakes were mine. **

**THANK YOU! Love, love, love!**


	23. Chapter 23

"You need a bigger bed," Eric hushed in Sookie's ear as he hugged her from behind while they lay down spent on her single mattress bed. He was curled up behind her as their legs got tangled under the blanket. "And a bigger couch."

Sookie repressed a shudder as Eric's warm breath blew against her skin that was creating a stark contrast with her wet hair from the shower they just took.

"Okay. But can I do the redecorating later or tomorrow or next week? When I'm able to walk straight again?" she cajoled. She was really sore. She didn't feel the stinging sensation until after she took that very cold shower with Eric. She had to use whatever amount of strength she had left to fend him off in her tiny bathroom stall. She used the shower nozzle to spray him and keep him back but he just wouldn't let off as he chased her down to the bedroom thus leaving a wet trail of footprints in the wake.

Eric let out a gusty laugh as he hugged her closer against him. He buried his nose in her wet hair and savored the scent of her shampoo. "I'm sorry. I should have been gentler. Do you want me to get you an ice pack? Or I can massage it?" he asked as his hand slowly made its way down to her thigh.

Sookie quickly slapped his hand to halt. "No!" she screeched. "If you touch it, I swear I'm gonna bawl like freakin' a child!"

Eric chuckled and the soft tremors he created made Sookie's skin bristle with goosebumps. "Stop that! You're making me lose count!" she chided.

"Count what?"

"The number of days since I had my last period."

"I know my swimmers are in the same league with Phelps, but I don't think they are that good to get you pregnant this fast," he joked.

He had actually thought of protection as soon as Sookie made it quite clear she wanted to do the deed. It was part of his reflex. He would never bed a girl unless Doc Johnson was hooded, but for some unintelligible reason he decided to renounce its importance in the heat of the moment. It was probably because he didn't want her to change her mind? Or maybe, _just maybe_, he didn't care anymore if he reproduced with her. Fuck, there she was again, making him go against his very instinct.

Sookie tapped her fingers on his arm that was clasped to her waist as she continued counting. She was knowledgeable with the rhythm method. In fact she was well-informed with all forms of method that was why she was castigating herself for not thinking about it sooner before Eric had claimed her V-card.

"How come you know how the calendar method works when you're not sexually active?" he asked curiously as Sookie mulled silently.

"One of the perks for having a man-whore of a brother," she shrugged. Yes, it was Jason who taught her how to be safe. It was the single most awkward conversation she had with her sibling. It was the same night before Prom after Jason made short work of those douche bags in the football team who cast a wager on her Big V. Jason, bless his heart, had to down two bottles of beers before he finally found the courage to sit his little sister down and talk to her about the birds and the bees. With their parents gone and their Gran far too conservative for that kind of discussion, he felt that the responsibility to make Sookie aware of the pros and cons of sex fell heavily on his shoulder.

Sookie had rolled her eyes so many times during the span of their 'talk' that she had feared her eyes would get stuck at the back of her head. Jason babbled like a silly drunkard as he enumerated all the different types of contraceptives, natural and artificial, and Sookie had cringed each time. For the finale, Jason took out a condom from his wallet and tried to give it to her, "in case of emergency,' he said. Sookie threw her hands in the air and ran up to her bedroom. When most brothers would tell their little sisters to wait until they were 30 to have sex, Jason would give pep talk and rubber to-go.

"So, are you?" Eric asked warily.

She started tracing small circles on his arm. "I think so. It's been 22 days since I had one," she replied with a little hesitation. She started ticking off the days with her fingers again before she spoke, this time with more assertion. "Yep, I think I am."

Relief flooded the Viking upon hearing the certainty in her voice. But there was something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Disappointment? Hell, no, he thought as he dismissed the notion the instant he acknowledged it. There was no way he could think of having a child. He was not cut out to be a father.

Despite his constant denial a disheartened sigh couldn't help but come out, which made Sookie whisk her body around to face him.

"What?" she asked worriedly as she cradled the side of his jaw.

"Nothing," he dismissed as he put his mask of ennui back on.

"Tell me," she prodded. Unconvinced with his indifferent façade.

Eric stared at her and could not see any trace of her usual abrasive side. Only concern and, surprisingly, warmth. He gulped as he pulled her closer that their noses were almost touching. "I was just thinking…" he started apprehensively.

"What?" she breathed as she started playing absently with the loose hair that fell on his forehead. It was the first time she saw Eric's normally coiffed hair unkempt. It was a refreshing change. He almost looked normal, approachable, touchable…

She almost thought lovable but she caught herself before she did.

Eric swallowed wordlessly as he studied her. Sookie's ministration was very distracting.

"What?" she asked huskily again.

'…_if you get pregnant, would that be so terrible?'_ He wanted to ask but he knew those words were Sookie's kryptonite. She would flee so fast before he could utter another word. So he decided to go for the safer route. "I was just wondering if you're ready for another round?" He waggled his eyebrows seductively.

Sookie pinched the skin beside his nipple. "Ugh! You are such a horn dog!" She pushed him back with very little conviction and he only sniggered as he started ghosting feathery kisses on her nose, cheeks, eyes and lastly on her lips.

He wanted to claim her again. To nurse and feed his deflated pride but he knew he had to give her time to recover. He snaked his arm under her neck before he heaved her head to rest on his bare chest.

Eric felt her snicker against his torso. "What's so funny?"

"Can you imagine what kind of demon child we'll bring into this world if we ever spawn? With an egocentric father and an equally-appalling mother… oh man! Think of the horror!" she teased. "It's like the first scene of every Omen movie I've watched." She forced herself to laugh at her pitiable joke, that wasn't hilarious even in her own ears.

Something dark crossed his eyes but he shook it off immediately. This was exactly why he would never let anyone see beyond his apathetic front. "Yes, that would terrible," he breathed, trying to stop his voice from cracking.

* * *

**E/S**

She started at his earlobe, nipping the soft flesh that dangled at its bottom, before she darted out her tongue to lick the back of his ear. He felt the hair at his nape bristle with lust. "Eric," she whispered.

Eric kept his eyes closed as he let her trail kisses under his jaw line down to the hollow of his throat. "Eric," she called softly again.

His hands instinctively reached out to touch the bare skin of her back as she climbed on top of him, murmuring his name between moist kisses. She laved her tongue on one of his nipple and her hand went down to rub the half-erect bulge down his waist. It sprung to life at her touch and he grunted as he felt her hand envelope his manhood.

"Sookie," he rasped. He tried to open his heavily-lidded eyes as his hand grabbed a fistful of hair to pull her up for a kiss.

"Eric," she hushed before she moved up to level her face with his. Eric cupped her jaw before he opened his eyes.

And that was when the fantasy came to a resounding halt. It was like he was hit by freight train as his heart dropped to his stomach. He felt his inside clench painfully as he stared at the beautiful face in front of him.

'_Nora!'_

A cheshire grin broke across Nora's face as she watched Eric blanch under her. "Where is she!" he bellowed as he grabbed her arms and shook her like a rag doll. Nora didn't squirm in fear as she cackled menacingly.

"Eric!" He heard Sookie scream. He whipped his head in the direction of the wail and realized he wasn't in her bedroom anymore but in a garage. The exact garage where he saw Tabitha meet her end in the most gruesome way possible. A loud screeching sound roared as a black SUV skidded to a stop beside him. At its tail was Sookie. His Sookie. Chained to the fender, wearing only her underwear to cover her bloodied body.

The window of the SUV rolled down and Russell Edgington's smirking face ducked out. "Enjoying the view, Northman?"

"Sookie!" His wail pierced the thick air as his eyes shot open.

It was only a nightmare.

Eric was shaking like a leaf as his hand flew to the side of the bed, searching for the warm body that was beside him before he allowed himself to sleep. But her side was empty. He was alone in her miniscule bed.

His brain was on overdrive as he flew off the bed to look for her. _'It's not true. It's not true. It's not true,'_ he chanted in his head as he reached for the knob of her bedroom door.

He was so high strung and disgruntled that he didn't realize that the person he was looking for was right in front of him before he slammed into her making her fall flat on her back.

"Ow!" Sookie groaned as she hauled her upper body up.

For a fleeting second, Eric was paralyzed on his feet as he gaped at her. She was wearing his shirt again on top of her undergarments.

"Eric?" she asked when he didn't make a move to help her up.

In a flash Eric was on his knees. She held on to his arm to prop herself up but was surprised when he carried her bridal style instead. Before she could protest, they were back inside the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and Sookie started wiggling her body to go down. But Eric wasn't about to let her slip away from his grasp as tightened his grip on her, pressing her against his torso.

"Where the fuck did you go?" he growled as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, trying to mask the sound of his trembling voice.

"I was - I was just outside. Icing my - you know," she replied sheepishly before she reached out to raise his face so she could look at him. "What's wrong with you?" she asked softly, taking in Eric's miserable expression.

"Don't you ever leave my side," he gritted before he kissed her furiously. His mouth was merciless against her, probing, demanding and possessive. He wanted to abate his overwrought nerves. He wanted to assure himself that she was real and she was safe.

Sookie gasped for air as she pulled back slightly and rested her temple against his. "What's wrong with you, Eric?" she repeated haltingly.

He never offered a response. He just swiveled toward the bed and laid her carefully down. "We need to talk," he started solemnly.

Sookie clutched the front of her shirt before she gasped dramatically. "Are you breaking up with me?" she asked as she feigned wariness.

A ghost of a smile lightened up Eric's grim façade. "That depends. Are we together?" he asked cautiously. "Are you mine, Sookie?"

Sookie tsked. "So possessive, Mr. Northman," she chided mockingly.

Eric's lips didn't quiver as he stared her down. "Answer the question, Sookie. Are you mine?"

"And me sleeping with you was too subtle a hint?" she asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

"Here I thought you're just breaking me in for a test drive," he teased with a lopsided smirk.

Sookie leaned forward to brush her nose with his. "Oh, I was. And you passed, with flying colors."

She sealed his lips with hers before he could throw another bon mot her way. Sometimes, Eric Northman talked too much when he should be doing something more enjoyable with his mouth.

* * *

**E/S**

They started discussing the minor subject first: Fiordilatte.

Eric was still adamant that Sookie should take the head chef post but Sookie refused to yield. She even asked if he could hire Selah back because she felt bad that the former executive cook would be jobless because of her. But Eric told her that Selah's insubordination was inexcusable. After going back and forth, they finally settled on an agreement that Eric would let Marco choose among the line cooks who would replace Selah and occupy the sous chef position. Sookie would be relegated to line cook, which was a huge promotion from kitchen assistant.

She articulated that she wanted to be acknowledged for her own merits and not because she was letting the boss get under her pants. Eric finally deferred. He couldn't really fault her for looking after her friends. It was part of her allure. Her uncompromising pride and fierce loyalty to the people she cared for.

They sealed their deal with a sweet and languorous liplock. Their kiss tapered off after a while and decided to get some much-needed nourishment. She managed to get him into one of Jason's old jerseys that she uses as sleepwear. Eric lifted his brow snootily as he appraised the tatty gray shirt with Bon Temps scribbled in big bold letters. He was about to say something incredibly vainglorious but caught himself when Sookie clasped her hands on his blue shirt protectively.

She refused to relinquish her hold on his shirt. It smelled like him, she reasoned and he couldn't bring himself to take it from her any more. The jersey looked dreadful paired with his custom-made charcoal trousers, but it would do.

He would gladly wear hideous hand-me-downs for the rest of his life if it meant he would see her in his clothes, for he had not seen anyone so perfect in something so unflattering.

They eventually decided on pizza. Neither of them spoke while they stuffed themselves with the specialty bread. They eyed each other suspiciously when there was only one slice left in the box. He would let her have it eventually but he liked engaging her in a good-humored contest. She was overly competitive and he liked it when she narrows her eyes at him roguishly when she was trying to outclass him.

He slowed down with his chomping as he waited for her to finish hers. When she reached for the last slice his hand stabbed in the air to beat her to it. Sookie slapped the back of his hand before she snatched the greasy pizza from the box. Eric chuckled. "Greedy!" he tsked.

"You'd really deprive your girlfriend the sustenance she badly needed?" she asked too innocently.

"Girlfriend?" he asked as a grin broke across his handsome face. That term sounded Greek to him and ironically, he was fluent in Greek.

Sookie, who was about to take a bite at her prized bread, stopped midway as she pursed her lips together and looked away. Damn, she didn't mean to blurt that out. How dumb was she, expecting someone as elusive as Eric Northman to be comfortable with such labels.

Eric's smile died on his lips as he placed a finger under her chin. "Hey, hey, the die is cast. You're my girlfriend (the word was still alien in his tongue but it was a pleasant kind of different) now. No backsies."

Sookie bit her inner cheek to keep from smiling as she tried to keep her indignant appearance in place. She whacked his finger off her chin before she took a huge bite of her pizza. "Ha! And Jason thought I won't make it into Hollywood!"

'_Nice save, Stackhouse,'_ she gave herself a pat. She made a mental note to tread carefully with the Viking and steer clear of mushy wordings altogether. She knew they were not on that level yet. Baby steps, she reminded herself.

Eric shook his head before he took a swig of his cheap beer. It tasted like rust in his throat. But he kept his face convivial. If he were to delve deeper into her world he needed to tweak his way of living. Or at least try to adapt.

They were comfortably perched on the couch that was draped with an old duvet to cover the little smear of dried blood that was the result of their earlier activity. He found himself terribly conflicted as he ran his palm on the soft armrest.

His relationship with everything in her apartment was hate at first sight. He disliked her worn-out couch and how nothing in her loft was coordinated with each other. Her small TV was small and outdated. Her wooden coffee table had scratches on the edges and her bed, oh that miniscule bed, where his feet dangled like he was the fucking Goliath.

Yes. It was indeed hate at first sight. But her home, like the owner, had the tendency to change first impressions. Her couch didn't seem so old and springy anymore. He could put it in his suite at the North and he was sure it would not only fit right in but also stand out among his lavish furniture. Because this couch would be his constant reminder of the day he fell into the schmaltz pot.

His blissful musings was interrupted when Sookie stood up, seemingly in a panic.

"Shoot! What time is it?" She wiped her hands with the paper napkins that came with the pizza as she scrambled for her phone inside her bag.

Eric turned anxious as he watched her fumble. "Why?"

"I need to call Amelia." She found it and started skimming through her list of contacts.

Eric was instantly beside her and yanked the small device from her fingers. "Don't tell me, you're still going to the Mandalay?" his tone was grim, challenging.

Sookie tugged at his arm as she tried to retrieve her phone. "How stupid do you think I am?"

"Stupid, no. Suicidal, yes." He raised his hand and Sookie stood on top of the sofa to reach it.

"Dammit! Eric, give it back! I'm not going back there, I swear. I just need to call Amelia to tell her I won't be coming in anymore. It's just proper courtesy," she reasoned.

Eric gauged the sincerity in her voice and when she stared right back at him, arms crossed against her chest with a don't-mess-with-me expression, he knew she wasn't trying to pull a trick on him. He handed the mobile device to her and flopped back on the couch, pulling her on his lap. She yelped when she landed on him.

"Call her here," he ordered as he wrapped his arms on her waist.

"A little privacy, please?"

"Why, are you going to have phone sex with her?" he mocked, unyielding.

Sookie huffed before she rolled her eyes. She was beginning to realize the futility in arguing with a Viking.

She called Amelia and gave her some feeble excuse as to why she couldn't make it to her shift. She added that she might not be able to continue working there at all since she had been promoted in her first job. She promised to drop by on Monday to file her formal resignation to Human Resources, with that she felt Eric stiffen under her.

"You're not going back there," he said in a voice that left no room for argument as soon as she hung up.

"I have to. I have to surrender my IDs. You know how strict casinos are."

Eric groaned exasperatedly. He knew she was right. It was proper protocol. But the tight clenching in his gut was protesting.

"I'm coming with you," he said finally. It wasn't one of his best ideas but he couldn't risk letting her walk into a trap.

"You know you can't," she disputed. "What if Bill's there?"

'_Then he can lick the dirt under my shoes,'_ he thought acidly.

"There's something you need to know, Sookie."

He let her slid off his lap as she sidled up next to him on the sofa. Eric clutched her thighs and placed them back on his lap as he started stroking them lightly with the tip of his fingers. "Eric, stop that!" Sookie shrieked as her skin prickled under his fingers.

Eric snickered before he grazed her cheek delicately with the back of his hand. For a minute, he just looked at her, pondering how much or how little information he would share.

Sookie furrowed her brows as she looked at him quizzically. After a pregnant pause, punctuated by a heavy sigh, Eric told her about Victor Madden and Russell Edgington and the bad blood that coursed through his connection with the owner of the Mandalay Bay, including his disastrous dalliance with Russell's mistress, Tabitha.

Sookie's clapped a hand over her mouth when Eric rehashed in lurid details Tabitha's heinous departure. He didn't want to scare her off but if that would be the only way to make her realize the magnitude of their situation then he would not hold back anything from her. It was time to lay the cards on the table before he asked her if she were still willing to play the deadly game.

"Oh my god," she muttered under her breath in abject horror.

"Russell already knows about you. Sam hacked into their system three nights ago and found some troubling footage of you at the casinos. They're keeping an eye on you, Sookie. Sam managed to override their surveillance at the parking lot. Our meeting place was the only area Russell is blind," he added.

"That's why you're having me followed," she whispered.

It was Eric's turn to be shocked. How did she know about the men tailing her? Were they not being discreet? What if Russell's flunkies spotted them too? Heads would definitely roll if he finds out that were the case.

"How… ?"

"They were actually good. It took me a long time to notice. I only started to keep a lookout for them when Pam told me you had eyes everywhere. That's why I was very careful to lead them off track when I took the job at the Mandalay."

That explained why Roman hadn't been made aware of Sookie's second job until after she had showed up for work.

"Don't do that again. Do you hear me?" Eric reprimanded with his scary stern voice. "You can't shake them off like that again. Swear on it, Sookie."

"Yes, boss," she replied with a mock salute.

Eric seized her elbows. "This is not a joke. I can't let Russell get his hands on you."

"Okay," she hushed contritely as she tried to placate the Viking. "I promise."

"That's my girl." He finally relaxed as his hands went back to rubbing her legs idly.

"The wheels are already in motion. I have a plan to take Russell down. But I need more time. As long as he feels he has the upper hand, he won't strike. Edgington is patient. Too patient. He's waiting for the perfect opportunity and since he's now aware of you he can use you against me. That's why I want to pay off your loan to Long Shadow. I want you to be out of the equation completely."

Sookie turned contemplative as she chewed on her lip. Eric watched her warily as her face took in that ardent look when she was about to go on the prowl.

"You said you have a plan, right?" she asked after a while. Eric nodded guardedly. "Why don't _you_ use me? I can stay at the Mandalay and spy for you. I can go and befriend Bill. Earn his trust. Tell him we split up and I can act like a jilted lover. He'll buy it. He's very predictable and easy to read. I can gather intel for you to buy some time. I -"

"No!" Eric interjected crossly. His eyes piercing her like daggers. The very idea of her being at close proximity with Edgington, or _Bill_, was deplorable. Her suggestion also meant they had to be apart - at least pretend to be at odds again. No, he thought. It was fucking unacceptable.

"Hear me out first, Eric…" Sookie tried again.

"No!" he growled. "You are not a pawn. End of discussion."

Sookie was indignant. He wasn't even letting her explain. Did he really expect her to stay at the sidelines while he took on the very people who orchestrated her father's demise? Her lips pinched into a taut line as her eyes narrowed.

Eric sighed audibly before he took her hands. "You want to be useful?"

"Hell, yes, I do. I'm not a freakin' wallflower."

"Then work at the North. Help Sam go over the surveillance feed from the Mandalay and the Grand. He could use your eyes." He planted a soft kiss on her palm as he waited for her reply.

Sookie couldn't stop herself when she lunged at him. She burrowed her face on his neck before she let herself smile. "I can do that," she rasped. "I can definitely do that."

"Under one condition of course." Eric tried to keep his voice stern to disguise his giddiness.

Sookie pulled back as she stared at him.

"You'll let me pay Long Shadow."

"It's a big amount, Eric. It's gonna take me years to pay you back," she uttered timidly. Eric was about to tell her she didn't need to but she cut him off. "I _will_ pay you back. End of discussion." She tried to give him a dose of his own medicine as she echoed his unnerving response earlier.

"Years, huh?" he mumbled as he feigned skepticism. "You mean I'll be stuck with you for years?" His lips pouted as he pretended to second guess his previous offer.

She was fairly certain he was only trying to yank her chain so she decided to play along.

"Did I say years? I meant decades," she droned.

Eric flashed a toothy grin before he bowed his head to meet hers. He held the side of her jaw before he replied huskily, "I think I can manage," before his lips descended on hers.

Sookie imagined hearing the dealer calling for last bet. The odds weren't in their favor. She could lose more than she was willing to bet. There was a very small chance of success. All signs were telling her to fold and run while she was still ahead.

But the die had indeed been cast and she saw herself pushing all her chips in.

'_One time, Matilda.'_

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters.**

**Eh? Too flat? I'll make it up to you. Next stop: the pyramid party! Thank you so, so much! Love, love, love!**

**Thank you SadieSwirl! All other mistakes are mine.**


	24. Chapter 24

Eric left Sookie a little past midnight. He was intent on sleeping over but Pam's insistent calls were bothering Sookie that she made him leave after much convincing. "The empire needs you, Lord Vader," she even teased. She had refused to give him back his shirt and the Viking was more than willing to leave her with it. Loving the display of schmaltz she was generously giving him.

Sookie didn't actually want Eric to go but she was afraid that if the Viking stayed over she wouldn't be able rest at all. She was still deliciously sore but she doubted if the stinging would still be delightful tomorrow when she works for Marco at the Luxor gala.

Eric sent her a message an hour after he left telling her to set her alarm at 10am because Pam would be dropping by her apartment at 11. She inquired about Pam's business with her but he only sent a cryptic, 'I'm not at liberty to discuss,' reply. She tried phoning him but her calls were directed to voice mail. Probably his way of getting back at her for ignoring his calls earlier.

She swore under her breath and shoved her phone under her pillow as she forced herself to sleep.

**E/S**

"I'm not goin' back to the Cavern, Pam!" Sookie shrieked as Pam tried to push her inside a white Audi convertible.

Pam, true to her word, was at Sookie's doorstep a few minutes before 11. After a good six-hour snooze Sookie felt recharged and pumped up enough to finally get up at seven in the morning. She kept herself busy by changing the bedsheets and scrubbing the bloodstain off the couch. She grabbed an apple and headed straight to the laundromat across the street, giving extra care to Eric's blue shirt that still smelled distinctly like him. She would have saved it and kept it pristinely Eric-scented but when she checked its tag earlier and discovered it was Armani, she knew right then that she couldn't keep it. All the time, she had fought the urge to check on Eric.

"I have a fully-charged taser in my purse, Sookie, and I'm not afraid to use it. Now, get inside and stop making a scene," Pam ordered with an arched brow and an akimbo pose.

Sookie didn't know what it was about Pam Ravenscroft that sends cold shiver up her spine. Must be her dominatrix history, Sookie reflected as she folded herself inside the car with a disapproving scowl.

Everything became blurry from that point forward. Pam took her to the Luxor spa where they met with Holly and three more female line cooks from Fiordilatte.

"It's Marco's treat," Pam told them, "for helping him with tonight's event."

And it was definitely a treat. Sookie had the feeling it was the machinations of a certain Viking but since he was also doing the other cooks the same favor she decided to keep mum and just go with it. It was nice to be pampered once in a while. Holly and the other station chefs chose different facial and massage packages leaving Sookie, who was a spa virgin, under Pam's care. The leggy blonde picked Sookie's treatment pack before she sent Sookie to follow her health resort specialist along with the rest of the line cooks who were ushered in their respective suites.

Pam winked at Sookie mischievously before an attendant led her to a private room where she was scrubbed, pricked and waxed, ridding her of all unsightly hair. Sookie felt tears prickling her eyes every time the gauze-like fabric yanked out a strip of body hair. She was ready to give up and run outside naked when the spa specialist gestured to her private part. It turned out she was only kidding. 'Haha-hilarious,' Sookie thought sardonically.

For the pièce de résistance, her attendant redeemed herself when she treated Sookie to a calming and soothing massage until all the aching in the Southerner's skin and joints dissolved that Sookie found herself falling into a serene slumber.

A few hours later, Sookie emerged out of her suite, refreshed, enlightened and practically glowing in her golden silk kimono. She met the other girls at the lounge for tea and biscuits and Holly couldn't stop gushing how tranquil she felt. Sookie made a mental note to thank Eric later. It was really very thoughtful of him.

Pam pranced inside the lounge to collect the girls and Sookie couldn't help but imagine Pam as the prim governess of the Red Cavern. She looked the part too with her intimidating persona and a killer leather outfit to match. As they went off to change into their regular clothes Sookie hung back and leaned into Pam.

"Um… can you please tell _him_ thanks?" Sookie whispered.

Pam didn't bother keeping up with the pretense as she tucked a stray hair behind Sookie's ear. "Tell him yourself, later, sweetheart."

* * *

**E/S **

The ladies came rushing back to the pyramid and into the bustling Luxor kitchen. The men, including Terry who was sporting a goofy grin, were treated to an afternoon of luxury 1960s style as they lazed around at the Cigar club at the North.

The male Fiordilatte cooks were already working with the rest of the Luxor crew prepping the mise en place when the ladies arrived with Pam. They eyed the women appreciatively for their noticeable makeovers and the ladies of Fiordilatte couldn't help but wonder why Marco would doll them up since they were going to be stuck in the kitchen anyway.

But Marco had another surprise. Three hours before service he told the Fiordilatte crew that because this would be a cocktail buffet and not a sit-down gathering all the hors d'oeuvres should all be outside the ballroom before the party begins - which meant they were free to join the festivities except for a handful of Luxor staff that were tasked to replenish the stock.

It was like they were all running on pure caffeine as they whipped up their dishes with surgical precision. Two and a half hours later all the dishes were ready, had undergone quality control, and were sent out. Marco let the Fiordilatte staff go, along with half of the Luxor crew. To Sookie's astonishment Holly and the other girls came prepared with their evening dresses. Holly tried to lend Sookie her backup gown but the cut was too low and skimpy that Sookie doubted that it would ever fit her. The Southerner's shoulders sagged as she resigned herself in the kitchen to wait for Eric to finish before she could meet up with the Viking.

Announcements were made as Stan Davis took his final bow as the CEO of the famous pyramid and the Queen Regent that stood beside it. Sookie heard one sommelier mumble something about how Eric Northman looked very James Bond-ish when Stan passed the proverbial torch to the Viking. Sookie couldn't fight the desolate sigh that came out of her as she imagined the princely Viking in an impeccable suit.

Sookie was still reeling from dejection when she tried to steal a peek through the round windows of the kitchen leading to the ballroom. But the kitchen was strategically concealed from the main hall and she couldn't help the profanity that sprung out of her lips when she couldn't spot _him_.

She heard someone snigger beside her and she jolted in surprise when Marco's velvety voice sounded close to her ear. "Shall we, _mia bella_?"asked the Italian chef who had been keeping an eye on her all night.

Sookie gave him a quizzical look.

"You'll be my date tonight, Sookie. That's the only way we can sneak you incognito with all these people sniffing around Eric," he explained in a hushed tone before he took her hand and led her to the back door where the service elevator was located. "Pam, will meet you upstairs to get you dressed, then I'll meet you by the bar. _Si?_"

He gave Sookie her sling bag along with a card key before he pressed the number 19 button. Sookie didn't have time to ask Marco what was going on before the lift doors slid close and the metal box shot up.

A stunning Pam, in a black halter top gown that highlighted her spectacular curves, met her at the lift lobby of the 19th floor and the leggy blonde wasted no time as she pulled the disoriented Southern Belle into room 1910.

Sookie, who was still having a hard time keeping up with Marco and Pam and their elaborate scheme, insisted on taking a quick shower because she felt grimy and greasy from the work she did in the kitchen. Pam sighed exaggeratedly before she tore open a floor-to-ceiling closet and took out a frilly white box with La Perla written on it.

Sookie inspected the box like a bomb specialist and was mortified to find a set of black, lacy strapless bra and seamless boyshorts. "Did he choose these, too?" she asked, her cheeks ablaze.

"Nope. That's all me. You're welcome." Pam winked roguishly.

"Why do I feel like you're pimping me?" Sookie asked dubiously, narrowing her eyes at her banter partner.

"Because I am," Pam replied offhandedly before she clapped her hands and said, "chop, chop, Princess, before your Prince Charming turns into a toad."

Sookie realized she didn't want to argue with Pam any longer because every second she spent debating with the unbendable dominatrix was a second away from her Viking.

When Sookie emerged from the ensuite bathroom in a fluffy bathrobe, Pam was already perched at the vanity dresser by the hospitality corner holding out a beige chiffon off-shoulder cocktail dress. It was gorgeous, sexy and elegant and totally not her.

Sookie swallowed the argumentative remarks at the tip of her tongue as she put the dress on without another word. She was in the middle of zipping up the soft and intricate fabric on her back when she heard the front entrance swung open.

'_Eric!'_ she thought excitedly.

Sookie practically ran outside only to stop dead in her tracks as she stared at the newcomer. Much to her dismay, it wasn't the Viking but a fashionably-dressed young man with shoulder-length brown hair who was pulling a hot pink luggage behind him.

"Immanuel, darling," Pam blew air kisses to the newcomer, who, Sookie decided, was definitely batting in the same league with Lafayette. He gave Pam a tight hug before he turned to scrutinize Sookie. Pam strolled beside the silent Southerner before she finished snaking the zipper all the way up.

"Sookie, this is Immanuel, my hair stylist." Pam made the introductions. "I want the works, Manny." Pam gave Sookie a nudge forward so Immanuel could assess her more closely.

"Make her look like a goddess," added Pam.

Immanuel let go of his bag before he crossed his arms and looked Sookie up and down. "Have you tried a prayer?" he deadpanned.

Pam let out an unsophisticated guffaw and Sookie joined in not a second later.

It turned out Immanuel was really a miracle worker with his shiny scissors and wide array of hair products. He managed to turn Sookie's untended hair soft and glossy by applying products that smelled like pear and ylang-ylang. Immanuel only gave her hair a little trim. According to the stylist, Sookie had the young, natural look and her long wavy hair was the perfect accessory to accentuate her features.

Then it was Pam's turn to weave her magical hands as she dabbed a little color on the Southerner's face. Eric's second-in-command was like Frida Kahlo sans the unibrow with her deft hands. She said it would be like Sookie wasn't wearing make-up at all because she wanted her face to retain its youthful aura.

In less than an hour, Sookie was transformed from an awkward tomboy into a classy Southern heiress. Her hair, cascading down her shoulder, was curled loosely to create the natural 'just got out of bed' illusion. Immanuel tied a crystal-studded satin headband to keep her hair from her face. Her cheeks were tinged pink while her eyes were slightly smoky and her thick lashes were more pronounced with the help of two swipes of mascara. She insisted on using her cherry lip gloss and Pam, eventually, caved and let her have that one small thing since it complimented her barely-there make up.

Pam asked for her shoe size before she pulled out a box of three-inch blood-red peep-toe pumps for her to wear. "I would have gotten you a five-inch Zanotti but I was vetoed by Lover Boy. He said you're stubborn enough to wear Chucks with Elie Saab."

Sookie had no clue who Zanotti or Elie Saab were, but there was one thing she knew for certain. Her Viking knew her a little too well.

"I think someone's going to get thoroughly fucked tonight," Pam sang while they stood side by side in the elevator. (They left Immanuel in the suite and the stylist was more than happy to have a suite with fully-stocked bar to himself.) Sookie caught Pam's eyes through the mirror inside the lift and she couldn't stop the blush that decorated her face.

"Tell me again why I need to be Marco's date, if you-know-who already knows about me and Eric?" Sookie asked, diverting the subject away from her sex life.

"Because as long as you-know-who thinks Eric is clueless and is still hiding you like a deep, dark secret, he'll feel in control and won't do anything rash," Pam said as she assess her reflection in the mirror.

She didn't get the chance to ponder the leggy blonde's statement before they found themselves standing in the middle of the ballroom and Pam nodded at the bar where Eric and Marco were. The Viking had his back on her that he didn't see her walk nervously toward him.

Sookie's breath hitched as she shook her hands to loosen her tensed muscles. Marco and Eric were both wearing tuxedos and she had to disagree with the sommelier's remark earlier. James Bond might have all the fancy gadgets but Eric, she sighed, Eric didn't need any gadget to be fancy. He was the picture of perfection as he propped his elbow on the bar while leaning languidly at the mahogany table, absentmindedly swirling a glass of golden liquor in one hand.

She was wracked with nerves when she saw Eric that it took her a few seconds to notice the striking blonde he and Marco were conversing with by the bar. She fought the ire that made her blood pressure skyrocket when she saw the blonde brush her manicured fingers at Eric's arm.

'_Slut alert!'_

Sookie swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as she slowly made her way to the oblivious threesome. The blonde threw her head back in the air and covered her mouth ever so demurely as she laughed at what seemed like a very funny joke Eric delivered.

'_Oh, get a grip, sister! Eric's as funny as a crutch!'_ she thought acerbically.

Marco was the first to spot Sookie but one look at her stealthy approach and he knew damn well to keep his mouth shut to keep the Viking unaware of her arrival.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric tried his best not to roll his eyes as he watched Debbie Pelt, the head of the North's chief construction firm, patronize him with her overstated reaction to his remark about Stan Davis's tacky office. He took another indulgent sip of his scotch to stifle the sigh that was struggling to erupt for the umpteenth time. _'What's taking her so long?'_

Marco tried to keep him occupied by telling him stories about his recent trip to Palermo when Debbie waltzed in and started flaunting her precariously low neckline. But Eric was far too agitated to even notice Debbie's bosoms. He couldn't care less if her promiscuous gown slips off her completely. He checked his wristwatch again, 8:45, in less than four hours he would be officially Sookie-less for a whole fucking day. Too damn long.

He took another sip of his aged liquor and he hated the very effort he needed to exert to keep himself from checking his watch again.

He was getting sick of exchanging frivolous and mind-numbing pleasantries with his guests. And if it weren't imperative for him to show up to his own event, he would gladly skip it and head straight to Sookie's tiny apartment and gorge himself with greasy take-outs. He pressed his hand to the right side of his coat and checked if it were his phone inside his breast pocket that was thrumming or the restless ticker inside his chest. _'How long does it take to change into one stupid dress?'_

He had stopped paying attention to Marco and Debbie long after the Italian chef covertly told him that Sookie was already with Pam and that the ladies should be here momentarily.

"Will you be renovating the Regent this soon?" Marco asked, keeping the Viking occupied when he saw Sookie creeping toward them in her magnificent pearl gown.

Eric replied with a terse nod before he dropped his detached gaze into his almost empty glass. He moved to raise the glass back to his lips when something brushed against his arm and gave it a slight jolt. The bump was mild enough that he didn't spill the golden liquid on his tux but just enough to push the restive Viking off the edge. His face instantly darkened as he turned to the inattentive and would-be sorry guest that had the audacity to get too close to him.

But his wrath crumbled into dust as soon as his eyes landed on his assailant.

There she was, his Sookie, looking straight at him with an impish glint in her eyes. Her ability to take his breath away never ceased to astound him. He cursed internally when the ability to speak eluded him as her lips curled deviously - an absolute disparity with her angelic features.

"Oh, my!" she gasped dramatically when he stayed mute, agape. "Did I spill something on you, Mr. Northman?" She grabbed a thin wad of cocktail napkins from the bar and started wiping his dry and unscathed suit with long and deliberate strokes. Debbie looked beyond indignant while Pam and Marco exchanged amused and knowing looks before they both turned to their stemmed glasses to hide their smirks.

Eric finally snapped out of his daze as he clutched her hand that was stroking his chest and gave it a soft pinch. Their gazes locked and the sheer amount of will power they both used to restrain themselves from closing their gap was enough to topple Zeus from Olympus.

Marco cleared his throat to draw the couple's attention before he took Sookie's elbow. "Ah, _mia bella,_ took you longer than I would have preferred," Marco said in his syrupy accent. The Michelin-starred chef quirked his head very subtly at Debbie, who was still aghast at the sudden interruption, as if telling Sookie to save their displays of affection later when they didn't have a nosy audience anymore.

Sookie, still quite miffed by the flirty blonde's proximity, moved away from the Viking and squeezed closer to Marco to reprise her role as the Italian chef's consort. "Eric, Miss Pelt, I'd like to introduce, Sookie Stackhouse. She's the generous soul that agreed to keep me from making a complete idiot of myself tonight."

Debbie gave Sookie a once-over before she gave Sookie a caustic nod, making it quite clear that the Southerner's presence was not welcomed.

If Debbie's incensed state were transparent, Eric, on the other hand, was much harder to read.

He placed his glass on the counter before his fingers ran through his neatly combed hair. He then extended his right hand to Sookie. The slight clenching of his jaw was the only indication of his inner struggle as he asked for the Southern Belle's hand.

Eric's hard gaze flitted to the Italian chef who wrapped his arm around Sookie's waist a little too tightly for the Viking's liking. But Marco remained unperturbed as he lifted his eyebrow at the Viking as though reminding him of their charade. Eric hadn't forgotten the plan. It was what he was thinking of all day long. But after seeing her so, so… dammit, his vocabulary was shrinking, he cussed inwardly.

Alluring? _'Not strong enough a word.'_

Breathtaking? _'She always is.'_

Beautiful? _'Damn fuck it, Viking, millions spent on your education and you couldn't come up with something less plebian?'_

Unattainable? _'That's what your orgasm will be if you don't come up with something better and fast.'_

"Miss Stackhouse." Eric nodded when Sookie placed her seeming trembling hand on top of his. He planted a lingering kiss before he spoke again. "You are quite fetching tonight."

'_Fetching?! You should have stuck with breathtaking.'_

"Thank you, Mr. Northman," she replied huskily and Eric's pants tightened instantly.

'_Are you doing this on purpose, Stackhouse?'_

Their eyes locked together and it was as if someone had cued in a sickly sweet ballad at the background. The cheese factor was getting dangerously high and Debbie, the barkeep and some guests who were lounging near them were starting to throw furtive glances their way.

"I've been itching for a dance all night, Sookie," Marco said pointedly, bursting their bubble. "Shall we?"

Sookie's eyes flickered to Eric before she flashed Marco a meek smile and the charming Italian guided her to the dance floor by her elbow.

Debbie gave Eric's arm a little squeeze as she tried to reroute the Viking's attention back to her. Eric tried to keep up with their travesty as he forced himself to look away from the intoxicating blonde. The wily minx who had him reduced to an oafish illiterate, who couldn't think of any word – it didn't even have to be in English, for he was fluent in five more languages – to describe her.

Debbie started spewing out jejune topics again as she sidled closer and closer to Eric. The Viking stole a quick glance at the enviable couple on the dance floor and his jaw clenched involuntarily when he saw Marco's arm glide to her bare shoulder down to her back. Fuck it, he needed another drink. Debbie, oblivious to the Viking's agitation, was insufferable with her constant yapping. Eric's polite smile seemed stuck on his face as he pretended to listen. _'Shut up, please, just fucking shut up.'_

He snuck in another surreptitious glance to the infuriating duo and was taken aback when he found Sookie looking back at him with come-hither eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly before he physically dragged his attention back to the unbearable Debbie Pelt.

"Debbie, why don't we talk all about it on Monday back at the North? Pam's giving me the stink eye which means I need to do a little more socializing," Eric cooed. Debbie had piqued his curiosity by mentioning her brief association with Sookie's almost-fiance, Alcide, earlier. Then she became the perfect female to use as diversion to keep up with their ruse since he didn't choose an escort for the event. He needed someone to attract the lurkers' rabid interest.

"Yes, of course. I apologize, I'm keeping you all to myself," Debbie gushed and Eric tried not to cringe at her pathetic attempt to look seductive. "I'll see you on Monday. And congratulations for the pyramid, Eric." She placed a hand on his shoulder before she leaned in to give him a perfunctory peck on the cheek.

Even with Debbie gone he knew he had to give it a few more minutes before he headed to the floor and claim what was his.

He sat down at the bar stool and turned his head casually toward the dance floor. He couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the side of lips when he caught her stealing a glance in his direction. His lips pouted as he struggled to keep the slight smirk to break into an excited grin.

Sookie rolled her eyes at him before she dropped her gaze.

Eric found himself drumming his fingers frantically at the mahogany table as he tried to catch Marco's attention and motion him to come back and stop flaunting his Sookie at his face.

But his Italian friend was far from done. He was still having so much fun tormenting the Viking. Opportunities such as these only happened once in a blue moon, where Marco could remind Eric to go back to earth and mingle with the mortals. He dipped his head to whisper something to the Southern Belle and Sookie, the perfect accomplice, couldn't help but flush at Marco's suggestion.

Eric pried his eyes away from Sookie to scour the surroundings for anything alarming. There was something alarming alright. The Viking felt an unexplainable wave of possessiveness when he caught some of his guests – mostly insipid men - take a stealthy peek at Sookie and Marco. He knew that kind of look. He invented that look for fuck's sake. It was that predatorial shufti he used when he was scoping his next prey. They had no right to look at her like that. Like she was a scrumptious delicacy. He cursed himself for letting Pam dress her up in that utterly distracting gown.

Eric found himself zeroing in on her again. Despite the dim lighting, Eric caught something very, very unsettling. She was flustered. She was blushing like a fucking virgin to something his traitorous friend had probably said. His hands curled into fists and he tucked them quickly in his pockets. He had enough of this shit.

He smoothed the lapels of his tux before he sauntered casually to the dance floor only to be stopped by Pam who was accompanied by a preening Victor Madden behind her.

* * *

**A/N: Just borrowing the characters. **

**Very little E/S? There will be an E/S overload next chappie. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! Love, love, love!**

**Thank you, SadieSwirl! Always a doll!**


	25. Chapter 25

"Victor," Eric nodded casually at his unwelcome guest before he led Victor toward the VIP tables - and away from Sookie.

The changing of guards in Vegas was a sacred event among the 'kings' of Nevada. Because Russell was one of the prominent figures in real estate it was mandatory to send him an invite that came with a prayer that he wouldn't show. It was only for formality, though, a courtesy call.

After the Tabitha incident, Russell Edgington had kept his distance from all the Northman Enterprise events and the Viking reciprocated by being a constant no-show at any of Russell's functions.

That was why it was unnerving for the Viking to see Victor tonight. Russell would not do anything without a purpose, his every move was calculated. If Edgington took it upon himself to send his lapdog to sniff around and scale the enemy's turf, it meant Russell already had something undoubtedly devious and underhanded planned for Eric.

"Mr. Edgington wanted to send his best to you and Mr. Davis," Victor said. "He's still in Macau so he sent me instead." Victor's eyes roamed the surrounding and _coincidentally landed _on Marco who was trying to dip Sookie while the Southern Belle tried to repress a jejune giggle.

"Is that – Miss Stackhouse?" Victor asked in a low, conspiratorial tone.

Eric's jaw set as he made a show of following Victor's line of sight although he knew exactly where _she _was.

"Marco brought her," Eric replied curtly in his attempt at nonchalance.

Victor whistled like a boorish peasant instead of a somewhat decent hotel CFO. "She cleans up nicely. Maybe I should tell her to dress like that every day at the Mandalay."

Eric gritted his teeth discreetly while keeping his projected ennui intact. He wanted to burn that fucking dress and shove the ashes into Victor's fetid mouth to shut the fucker up.

"You haven't heard?" Eric asked flippantly as he ushered Victor to the table where Stan and his wife, Isabel, were perched. "Miss Stackhouse has been offered a permanent position in my restaurant."

"Oh?" Victor asked, genuinely surprised, as he turned to the Viking. "That's a shame. Mr. Edgington has been looking forward to meet her. Bill gave her such a stellar recommendation and Mr. Edgington thinks she can be a very good asset to us."

'_Bill Compton will die slowly,'_ Eric thought grimly.

Eric kept silent as he gave Stan a slight nod, beckoning the former owner of the Luxor to take the maddening Madden from his hands before he completely lose it and strangulate Victor with his pretentious skinny tie.

Stan, who had been a trusted ally of the Viking for seven years and was one of the few people who could see past the obligatory nods and unemotional smiles, stood up and casually made his way toward Eric and Victor.

But before Eric could stroll away from Victor, Russell's lieutenant rushed behind him and clasped a hand on the Viking's wrist.

Eric looked sharply at Victor then down at the bastard's imposing hand. "Getting handsy now, are we?" he cooed.

Victor took his hand off the Viking in a flash as he straightened his jacket to project a more dignified look. "I almost forgot Mr. Northman, Mr. Edgington recently found out that you also managed to acquire Queen Regent. He wants to know if you're interested in selling it to him. He's willing to go over the amount you paid Mr. Davis, of course."

"Tell Russell that I appreciate the offer but I'm not selling my Queen," was Eric's quick reply. Russell knew how long Eric had lusted after the Regent. It must be another form of power play on Russell's part, Eric deduced.

Victor sighed audibly before the smarmy bastard turned his gaze toward the bar where Sookie and Marco were lounging and seemingly engaged in a lively conversation with the bartender. Eric instantly felt a sharp pang inside his gut.

"Mr. Edgington would really appreciate it if you'd think it over, Mr. Northman. It's like what we always say: In Vegas, _everything has a price_," Victor stressed the last phrase with thick malicious intent – making sure Eric Northman would catch his drift.

But Eric had already caught up to him the minute he saw him tonight. And it unsettled the Viking how a lowlife like Madden could make such an impudent remark without worrying about the consequence. Eric might need to remedy that sooner than he had planned.

Eric leered at Victor. "I'll think about it," he replied dismissively before he swaggered toward his chief of security, Roman, who had been keeping an eye on the Viking at a safe and inconspicuous distance, along with two other burly men in black suits.

"Keep an eye on Sookie. If anyone so much as ask her for the time I want that person escorted out without question," Eric ordered before he made his way to the opposite end of the ballroom away from _her_.

He knew he had to keep up with the night's stratagem as long as Victor was present and lurking in the shadows, ready to report to his master.

The head of security nodded wordlessly.

* * *

**E/S**

Time seemed to drag at a snail's pace as Eric made his round to entertain his vapid guests. After one long, tortuous hour later, he got the green light from Pam that Victor already made his exit. Eric couldn't walk fast enough as he went back to check on Sookie who, to Eric's utter relief, was still by the bar, where he saw her last. She was silently nursing a glass of white wine, her finger circling the rim of her stemmed glass distractedly.

He could almost feel her boredom from across the room. She never made an effort to hide her disgust for gatherings of the glitterati like these. And Eric liked her even more for it.

The Viking gave Roman, who was standing a few feet away from her, a subtle nod before he made his way toward his prize.

"Is this seat taken?" Eric husked behind her. Sookie bristled as she took a sharp breath.

She fought the deep-seated urge to turn around and look at the Viking as she sighed exasperatedly. "I don't know. Maybe you should ask my babysitter over there," she tilted her head in Roman's direction. "He's been scaring off anyone who dares to even look this way."

There was a slight tug at the corner of his lips before Eric took the barstool beside her. A glass of scotch was in front of him automatically.

"You don't look like you're enjoying yourself," Eric asked as he stared at her reflection through the mirror across them.

"Are you kidding?" she asked dryly. "I'm having a blast. My _date_ had been called in to send the rest of the cooks off. Other guests are avoiding me like I have mono. And the person I actually want to spend time with has been ignoring me all night."

Eric couldn't quite hide his glee at her words. For her to admit she wanted to be with him was a step forward. A ghost of a smile crossed his features before he spoke again.

"What a dick!" Eric chimed in sarcastically before he took a sip of his scotch to conceal his smirk.

Sookie's lips pinched as though she was stifling a chuckle. "I know!" she agreed. "Big fat dick!"

The words were out of her mouth before she had realized what it must have sounded to Eric. And she could barely hold her laughter anymore when Eric stared at her with nothing but arrogance coloring his gaze. Sookie buried her face in her hands as she guffawed at her gaffe.

Her laughter was contagious as the Viking joined in, drawing peculiar looks from his nosy guests, who had enough decency not to gawk at the pair.

"If I were him, I wouldn't leave you for one second," Eric finally said when their laughter subsided, putting his glass closer to hers purposely, brushing the back of his hand with hers.

Goosebumps broke across Sookie's skin at the subtle contact and she bit her lip to stop a sigh from escaping. Her face flushed and he almost grunted when she darted her tongue out to moisten her lips.

Eric shifted in his seat as his manhood sprung to life. "Stop that," he grumbled.

"What?"

He leaned closer to her before he whispered. "Stop that or I'll fuck you right here on top of this table."

Her blush intensified a shade redder as she raised her drink to her lips. She was suddenly very thirsty and she wasted no time in downing the rest of her Pinot Grigio.

"You don't look so good, Miss Stackhouse. Maybe it's time you call it a night and head back to your room upstairs," Eric said before he flashed his lopsided smirk at her through the mirror.

Sookie gulped nervously, the alcohol was making her lightheaded and was beginning to cloud her judgement. For some reason she couldn't get herself to contradict him. But before she could express her assent, the perpetually-interrupting Pam emerged beside them and asked Eric to get ready for his parting toast.

It was close to midnight and there was nothing he wanted more but to leave this dreadful party and start the actual celebration with Sookie.

"Last," he hushed, dipping his head lower so only Sookie could hear.

Sookie couldn't stop the unladylike huff that came out of her nostril out of sheer annoyance. She was starting to realize the complications of dating a very busy tycoon. Maybe last night was only a fluke. Maybe she would never have Eric all to herself again. She almost slapped herself for her obsessive musings. All her life she had never let anyone dictate her happiness. She was her own island. She was self-sufficient. And now she was acting as though she was on life support and Eric was the only one keeping her afloat.

She ordered another glass of Pinot as she fixed her gaze at the mirror, revolted at what she had become. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw every guests turn their heads toward the podium as Eric commandeered the stage. She saw women prattle and mew as men laugh nervously in response to one of Eric's lame jokes about pyramids in the desert. She bit her tongue to stop herself from snorting derisively as she decided she had had enough of this ostentatious charade. She was not a trophy girlfriend. She gathered her small clutch that Pam had lent her off the table before she made her way toward the lift.

The elevator doors were sliding shut when an arm sliced the air between the metal trappings and the Viking, who was visibly catching his breath stepped in with a displeased grimace etched on his perfect face.

He pressed the close button and pressed the top floor. He swiped his gold key card and the car went up. He untied his bow and let it dangle from his collar. Sookie, who had already pressed her floor number, stepped forward when the door tore open at the 19th level. But she was stopped by the Viking who seized her elbow forcefully.

"You're coming with me," he said, unsmiling, before he pressed the close-door knob.

Sookie turned her cheek the other way to dodge the Viking's furious gaze as she kept the stern look on her face.

She didn't let Pam turn her into one of her dolls only to be relegated to different sitters while he was rubbing elbows with the snooty elites and deliberately snubbing her.

Eric didn't let go of her until they were inside his Luxor penthouse.

Sookie crossed her arms across her chest as she engaged him in one of their staring contests.

"What part of you're not getting away from me didn't you understand?" he gritted out.

"Get away from you?" Sookie spat skeptically. "Isn't it the other way around? You were the one who couldn't find time to spend more than ten minutes with me. You were the one who went gallivanting around with your Richie Rich friends while I stayed back and watched you like a freakin' groupie."

Sookie pulled one of her heels off and raised it to his face. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to walk with these damn shoes on?" She kicked the other one off. "I didn't get waxed and plucked like a freaking bird ready for roasting just so you could flirt with that tramp Debbie Pelt!"

There was a very fleeting pause before the Viking found himself beaming. "Are you jealous?"

His question sounded like a chirp and it made Sookie even more agitated. "Please. I don't get jealous," she quickly denied.

"Liar," he purred as he swaggered toward her.

Sookie was thrown off by the sudden shift of mood. How did it change from murderous to amorous in a matter of seconds? She was mad, wasn't she? Yes, she was definitely livid, she decided, as she took a step back. "I'm not jealous," she enunciated every word as though she was also trying to convince herself.

Eric kept stalking her like a prey as Sookie continued her retreat. He tilted his head to the side, mirth evident on his devilishly handsome face. "Your poker face is slipping, Sookie," he said in a sing-song voice.

She tried to keep her unaffected veneer as she balled her hands into fists to keep her resolve from crumbling. "I hate you," she spat after a while.

"No, you don't," he countered, his grin getting wider, more confident. "You miss me. That's why you're so mad. You want me to pin you to that wall and kiss you until you can hardly breathe. You want me to rip your clothes so I can feel how silky you skin is. You want me to fuck you until you scream."

Sookie swallowed thickly when her back hit the wall.

"Then what the hell are you waiting for?" she croaked when she found her voice back.

Neither of them knew who made the first move as they closed their gap and their lips clashed against each other.

Eric growled against her mouth as he carried her toward the next room where an enormous bed awaits them. Sookie unlatched her lips from his as she started planting chaste kisses under his jaw. She buried her hands in his ruffled hair, pulling him closer to her.

Eric had prided himself as a great lover - years of practice in the fuck department insured him of that title. But as he tried to get Sookie out of her invasive and loathsome apparel, he discovered how difficult it was to concentrate on one task when his heart was pounding like a fucking bass drum in his chest, making him quiver like an inexperienced pubescent boy.

"You need help with that, honey?" Sookie asked teasingly as she paused from trailing wet kisses down his throat.

Eric inhaled sharply as he halted with his battle against her intractable zipper upon hearing the usually cringe-inducing pet name from her lips. _'Damn fuck it, Sookie, stop it!'_ He wanted to yell. She was a shrewd, manipulative minx who had every intention of tormenting him into oblivion.

But he didn't want her to stop. Not at all.

After a few more attempts he finally gave up and decided to make good on his threat to rip her dress off. Pam would throw a hell of a hissy fit by the sacrilege of his action, but hell if he cared.

Everything became a hazy blur of vivid colors as he nipped and sucked every inch of skin his lips could find. He found his way between her thighs and nested there until her hips jerked and buckled uncontrollably. She pulled him up and tasted her cum in his mouth and Eric had never seen something so erotic and innocuous at the same time. Sookie tried to slither down but Eric could not wait a second longer as his erection throbbed impatiently.

The usually timid and prudent Southern Belle showed her aggressive side as she tried to regain control from the Viking. "Condoms?" she breathed.

Eric reached toward the bedside drawer and pulled a small square metallic-colored wrapper from his secret stash. He tackled her until she was on her back, defenseless against him. As soon as he was done with the bothersome nuisance of hooding John Thomas, he entered her slowly, watching her face twist in both pain and pleasure as she held her breath.

The Viking regained control once he was inside her. He pounded into her like he wanted to claim every part of her and brandish his name on it. Then as he felt her walls clenching around him, he slowed down, rolling his hips languidly until she couldn't take it anymore. She stifled a cry as she begged him to take her hard and fast.

Eric reveled in her helplessness - the sheer dominance over the seemingly unyielding woman, melting under him. He kept changing position, making Sookie squirm every time he struck that special chord connected to her peak. But once he felt her getting close, he would shift again and Sookie would strangle a whimper every time, refusing to give him the satisfaction that she was under his mercy.

"Do you want this, Sookie?" he rasped as he thrust lazily.

Sookie bit her lip to stop the words that he wanted to hear. Eric halted unceremoniously and Sookie fought a sob as she moved her hips up and down to make up for the lack of movement. The Viking growled as he grabbed her hips and pinned her to the bed.

"Eric, please," she whimpered.

"Tell me you want this," his voice was grating from suppressed lust. "You want me."

"You know I do," she cried.

Eric captured her lips and drove his tongue inside her mouth, penetrating and sucking all semblance of self-control in her.

Their kiss tapered off quickly as he pulled back. "Say it," he ordered gruffly.

"I want this," Sookie sobbed. "I want you."

"Again," he ordered punctuated by one hard thrust inside her earning him a strangled moan from Sookie.

"I want you, Eric," her voice almost pleading. She cradled the side of his jaw as her face turned softer, along with her voice as she whispered, "I'm yours."

Two words. It only took two fucking words in two fucking syllables to send Eric in a frenzy as he let out a guttural roar before his hips pounded frantically against her. He hated losing the upper hand. He loathed her for making him lose control. He despised how easily she could manipulate him. But not as much as he detested how much he loved her.

'_Love?!'_

"Eric!" she cried as her climax hit her, pulling him out of his unsettling revelation.

Despite his effort to prolong his own orgasm, he couldn't hold it in any longer as he came after her. Sookie's barely stifled cry drowned everything else for a few a seconds as they relished the paralyzing high brought by their shared climax.

* * *

**E/S**

"You should only wear my clothes from now on," Eric mumbled as his eyes feasted on her silhouette as the soft light from outside outlined her naked body inside his white dress shirt. She was leaning on the large picture window overlooking the Strip from thirty floors high.

She turned around abruptly, surprised to find him awake. They had both fallen asleep with the Viking spooning her from behind after their satisfying romp. Sookie woke up to rehydrate herself and couldn't help but stop by the window to admire the view from his suite.

"I have very sensitive skin. I don't wear anything that's not from Walmart or supplied by my Alma Mater. And your clothes give me hives," she kidded.

Eric swung his feet off the bed and grabbed his underwear that he found among the pieces of clothing strewn on the floor. He put it on as he made his way beside her. His arms snaked around her waist as he pulled her against his chest, burying his nose in her wavy hair.

"We should file a complaint to the owner. How dare he put us in this monstrous room with the most horrendous view?" she whined sardonically. She really admired his suite. It was opulent and lavish and the view was spectacular. It was a place suited for someone larger-than-life. Someone like Eric. But she wasn't about to spout horrible clichés that she was sure Eric had heard a million times already.

Eric chuckled in her hair. "I shouldn't be surprised. You hated everything about me," he said with a hint of bitterness as he recalled his alarming epiphany earlier.

"Not everything," she whisked her body around to hug him back. "I like how you always smell so good. Even when you were questioning me like a criminal that first time we met, I was disgusted with myself for finding your scent so… _fetching_."

Eric winced before he groaned exasperatedly, remembering the miserably pedestrian word he had used earlier. "Cut me some slack. I was bored out of my mind waiting for you."

"You didn't look so bored to me," she snapped, a little too whiny than she intended.

"Believe me I was this close (he gestured with his index finger and thumb barely an inch apart) to telling Debbie to shut the fuck up," he mumbled.

Sookie rolled her eyes, still refusing to let him off the hook.

"The only reason I was talking to her was because she told me she had met your ex in a convention here last year," he added.

Sookie furrowed her brows. "Ex?"

"Alcide." The bastard's name tasted like stale liquor in his mouth.

Sookie couldn't help but snicker while Eric knotted his brows. "I didn't get the punchline," he undertoned.

"We were never lovers, Eric," Sookie said almost patronizingly, as though trying to placate an irate child.

"And he asked you to marry him?" he asked dubiously.

"Alcide's a nice guy. We've been friends since we were kids," Sookie started. "I was at the lowest point of my life and I guess he thought it was the best way to help me and my brother. I really didn't understand him then. But we were never lovers. I bet he regretted it the second he asked me," Sookie finished, casually dismissing the topic.

"I'm a nice guy. But I don't go asking my friends who need my help to marry me," he muttered under his breath, despising the idea that if things went the other way, she would have been married to that fool.

Sookie laughed gustily. "You? A nice guy?" she mocked.

Eric narrowed his eyes at her before he tightened his grip on her waist.

"You're right. I'm not nice," he agreed before his features darkened menacingly, his voice dropping to a guttural whisper. "Because I'm going to do all sorts of bad things to you," he grumbled before he pressed her against the glass window and lifted the hem of her shirt. He kneeled in front of her and draped her leg over his shoulder.

Sookie was about to gripe again but her words got stuck at the back her of throat as she felt Eric's warm mouth latching on her lower lips and it didn't take long before Sookie was moaning his name over and over like a prayer.

* * *

**E/S**

"How's Panama?" Eric asked without preamble as soon as the person on the other line picked up. The Viking was leaning on the doorframe of the bedroom, trying to keep his voice low, as he watched her sleep soundly, sprawled under the blanket.

"Still hot as hell," the man on the opposite line groused. It was almost six in the morning in Panama but the man on the other side was more than willing to accept the Viking's early morning call.

"What would you say if I told you I could grant you a safe passage back here with a new identity?" Eric asked in his business tone.

There was a pregnant pause on the other line.

"Surely you jest," the man croaked desperately trying to sound upbeat, but failing pathetically.

Eric didn't reply as he waited for the gravity of his offer sink the ground beneath the man on the other line.

"What about Russell?" he finally asked. His voice laced with suspicion. "I thought you didn't want to get in between us? To honor the truce."

"Truce is off."

"What's the catch?"

"I hear you still have your connections in Venezuela?"

A brittle chuckle echoed from the other line. "Who's the lucky sonofabitch?"

"Victor Madden."

A heavily-charged silence followed, as though the man on the next line had forgotten to breathe.

"I'd deliver him to La Sabaneta myself," the man gritted out, his voice filled with venom. La Sabaneta, which ranked as the third worst prison in the world, was the place where men fight each other off for the chance to die a quick death.

"That's all I want to hear. You better pack your bags, Felipe, I'll see you soon." With that Eric hung up, deleted the number he had just called and threw his mobile phone at the chaise lounge at the adjacent living room.

He sprinted back to the bed with light steps. He peeled the duvet carefully and crept silently beside his quiescent lover. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her body closer to his until there was no more space separating them. Sookie wriggled gently, eyes still shut and heavy, and molded her body with his. He closed his eyes and indulged in the feel of her warm skin against his own.

'_Nobody threatens my Queen and gets away with it.'_ And this time he wasn't thinking of the Regent.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters. **

**Time for some shameless plugging: If you want to see what Eric and Sookie look like in the first ten chapters then check out rock star Lei's wordpress site [ leivasquez . wordpress . com ] she generously lent her precious time to make banners for DMH and they blow me away! I even made my own wp page just so I can post them there as well and stare at them all day. *sigh***

**Off to shower you guys with gratitude for sticking with this story and sending me your thoughts. I really appreciate them all. Love, love, love!**

**Next: a little bit fluff then back to the plot. Thank you!**


	26. Chapter 26

"Good morning sunshine!" Sookie chirped as she drew the heavy blackout curtains open to let the glare of the early day sun in the opulent Luxor penthouse.

Eric groaned as he raised his hand to his face shielding his eyes from the light. He reached for the pillow next to him to bury his face but Sookie was quicker as she kneeled on the carpet beside him. She had already changed into a white eyelet sundress with brown skinny belt tied at the waist and her hair was still damp from the shower she just took.

"Uh-uh. You, mister, are going to get up, brush your teeth and hit the shower," she chided as she weave her fingers through his tousled hair.

"Someone already has her morning coffee," Eric remarked dryly, still disoriented by the morning wake-up call.

"You will, too. As soon as you get your sweet ass off that bed and follow me to the living room," she said before she stood up. But before she could waltz toward the next room, Eric grabbed her by the waist and hauled her toward the bed. She landed on top of him with a shriek and Eric wasted no time tackling her so she was under him.

"I've got a better idea," he purred as he hooked his finger at the strap of her dress. "We'll close the drapes and pretend the night isn't over yet. Then you and I will - oh I don't know – sleep, or not," he waggled his eyebrows naughtily as if to stress that he didn't intend to do any sleeping anytime soon.

Sookie swatted his busy hands away before she pushed him off her. It was like a judo match where the two of them were trying to pin each other down for points. Soon she was the one straddling him and it proved to be an easier task when the opponent wasn't putting up much of a resistance.

"Hmmm… I like the way this is going," Eric cooed as he ran his palms on her thighs, slithering all the way up to her waist, thus discovering that she was already wearing something underneath her virginal white dress - much to his dismay.

"No can do, boss. Today, I'm going to collect that date you owed me when you ditched me on our alien trip," she said as she absently traced the contours of his rock hard chest.

Eric grinned like an overzealous child who was promised his first trip to the zoo. "Oh?"

Sookie bobbed her head as her fingers moved to his bulging biceps. She couldn't help but admire how taut and muscular his body was. "Last night I dabbled into your boring ass world and tomorrow you will be my full-time employer, so today I will be the one calling the shots."

She arched her brow as though waiting for him to object but Eric kept silent as he looked at her with a mix of incredulity and amusement. "I already called Pam and cleared your schedule. She had someone drop off some clothes for me that came with some very questionable choice of underwear." Her nose crinkled and Eric couldn't help but snigger at her inherent prudence.

"And oh, I've already taken the liberty of choosing your outfit for you, as a thank you for asking Pam to dress me up like Cinderella," she said in a saccharine voice paired with an exaggerated eyelash batting to project a look of innocuousness. Eric instantly felt the need to look inside his closet. Knowing Sookie she wouldn't pick something he would usually be comfortable in especially after all her griping last night. He could only hope it wasn't her brother's hideous Bon Temps jersey.

"Any objections so far, Mr. Northman?" she asked challengingly although he knew there was no way in hell he could veto her even if he wanted to. He bit his lip to keep his face from smiling compliantly as he shook his head.

"It's a Sunday so we'll go to church first. Not the kind with Elvis. A real church. I owe it to my Gran to make sure I'm not dating the devil himself," she mocked. "Then you'll bring me to the Grand Canyon and watch the sunset together. You will try your best not to cringe or snort when I say something sappy and if you play your cards right, Mr. Northman, maybe we can sneak in some heavy making out too." She smiled devilishly and Eric felt his manhood stir under her.

Sookie yelped when she noticed Jonesy springing to life and jumped off the bed. "No, no, no, buddy! Little Sookie needs to rest." She tugged his arms and dragged him off the bed.

Eric finally got up as his arms tangled around her. "Are you always this bossy?" he murmured as he pressed his naked body against her.

"Yep," she nodded with a haughty grin. "And today… you're mine."

It wasn't the first time Eric had heard someone utter those words to him. It had always brought him an unsettling kind of fear and annoyance. He never thought the day would come when he would treasure those words and actually willed it to be true.

He dipped his head and pressed his lips against her ear. "I already am," he hushed.

* * *

**E/S**

"I look ridiculous, Sookie," Eric whined for the umpteenth time as they walked hand in hand through the south rim of the Grand Canyon on the way to Yaki Point, where Pam told them was the best spot to watch the sunset with fewer tourists. They opted to go to church later when there were would lesser devotees around.

"Oh, shush! You look dandy," she hushed as she fiddled with the camera feature of her mobile phone to get it ready for the anticipated sunset shot. Eric rolled his eyes but couldn't help the slight tug at the corner of his lips as he took in her appearance. She looked divine in the white sundress Pam had picked out for her and made a mental note to treat his second to something ridiculously expensive later.

As Eric had feared, Sookie, the devious little shrew, had asked Pam for help to shop for a plaid shirt in one of the clothing shops down at the Luxor while he was still sleeping.

Eric looked down at the atrocious red and blue plaid shirt that made him look like a table mantle - paired with his dark skinny jeans, black boots and a baseball cap - and he would easily be mistaken for a redneck day-tripper. Despite his disagreement with his hideous get-up, he couldn't help but smirk at the shrewdness of his lover and her twisted sense of humor.

"I believe you promised me some heavy making out," he mewed at the distracted Southerner, ignoring the sidelong glances of the tourists around them.

Sookie could feel her cheeks burning as she slapped Eric at the shoulder.

But the Viking had been anticipating her response as he easily caught her wrist and grabbed the back of her neck before he pulled her toward him. Sookie didn't get to utter a word of protest before the Viking captured her lips.

It was a good thing there were very few travelers at Yaki Point and the sun had picked that exact moment to dip slowly at the horizon, drawing a collective gush from the small crowd.

Sookie didn't know if the 'awww' of adoration were meant for them or the exceptional vista as Eric playfully bit her lower lip as his tongue plunged inside her mouth. She knew she was missing the panoramic sunset but she couldn't bring herself to care as she threw her arms around him and deepened their kiss.

* * *

**E/S**

Their next stop was the church beside the Wynn. They had missed the late service but Sookie insisted they still go in to say a little prayer.

"What are you doing?" she asked Eric with a touch of levity when she noticed the Viking sitting rigidly beside her at the back of the parish.

"Just trying hard not to catch fire."

Sookie pressed her lips together to keep from chuckling. "Don't worry I don't think you'll be able to get past the front door if you're not welcome."

Eric threw her a dirty look before he draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer beside him. "What are you praying for?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Sookie returned her gaze to the altar, her expression softening. "To keep an eye on Jason. Heaven knows my brother can get pretty crazy sometimes."

"Must be a Stackhouse thing," he teased with a slight arch of an eyebrow.

Sookie almost stuck her tongue out but luckily caught herself before she did. "Pot, kettle, Northman," she snapped before her face turned solemn but shy at the same time. _'Also to keep a certain Viking out of trouble,'_ she kept to herself.

"I thought you'd pray for your dad or Gran," he asked after a while.

Sookie shook her head. "I already know they're in good hands. My Gran used to tell me after my dad died that he was in a place where no one could hurt him anymore and that I should pray for the living because the fight lives on for them."

Eric whisked her to face him. "So much angst for someone who's already dead inside," he said light-heartedly, echoing her words to him the other day.

"Who says I still am?" Sookie replied softly as she returned his gaze with passion that made Eric's heart beat dangerously fast.

* * *

**E/S**

They had dinner back at the North where Eric insisted they just call for room service because his reputation wouldn't survive it if his employees spotted him in dreadful plaid.

"Now I know why they called this 'Death by Chocolate,'" Sookie gushed as she licked melted chocolate off the back of the spoon.

Eric gulped before he reached for his wine, silently cursing the silverware that seemed to mock him.

"That good, huh?"

"Mmm Hmm," Sookie nodded, oblivious of the effect she had on the Viking.

'_Fucking spoon!'_

"Can I have some?" Eric asked as casually as he could, before he dipped his finger in the moist lava cake and smeared it on Sookie's lower lip making the Southerner jolt and chortle. He stood from his chair opposite her as he latched onto her parted lips, licking every trace of the dark brown dessert from her mouth.

Eric pulled back abruptly before Sookie could get into the rhythm of his demanding lips. "Really good. I think I'm gonna have some more," he purred before he circled to her side and kneeled in front of her. Sookie gaped at him, her breathing getting ragged as she followed his finger that plunged back into the sinful dessert before he daubed it from under her chin to the hollow of her throat.

"It's bad to play with your food," Sookie chided between shallow pants as Eric began licking chocolate off her neck.

"Is it?" Eric asked way too innocently as he wiped his sticky finger on Sookie's pristine white dress.

"Whoops," he said with a lopsided smirk. "Got you all dirty."

Sookie let out a throaty chuckle. "Don't tell me women actually fall for that trick?" she mocked.

"I don't know, you tell me," Eric rasped, refusing to balk at her little jab. His hand wandered to her back as he unzipped her dress ever so slowly, eliciting a sharp gasp from the Southerner.

He hooked his fingers on both straps of her dress and carefully peeled it off her. He made short work of her strapless white bra and quickly fastened his mouth on one of her perky nipples. Sookie chewed on her lip to keep from moaning as all coherent thought flew out the window.

A raspy whimper escaped her lips as she arched her back to give Eric more access to her breast and it earned her a low animalistic grunt from the Viking as he laved her other peak. His deft fingers slithered downward and found her damp panties covering her slick folds.

"Eric…" Sookie sobbed as he started stroking her folds over her sheer undergarment. He went back to kissing her neck, sucking on little patches of skin around her clavicle.

"Eric…" Sookie cried again as she tried to get him to stop. She could feel her orgasm bubbling and she was afraid she would come and give away how vulnerable she was under him. She tugged at his shirt to pull him up. Eric complied as he crushed his lips to hers, his tongue devouring every inch of her warm mouth.

Sookie drew back with a gasp before she stood up from her chair pulling Eric up with her. She started leaving wet kisses along his jawline all the way up to the back of his ear.

"I wanna try out something," she mewed before she started backing away toward the bedroom while her hands got busy unclasping the buttons of his shirt.

Eric followed her like a mindless prick, powerless under her influence as he kicked off his boots and took off his jeans. The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she quickly swapped position with the Viking before she pushed him roughly onto the bed. She climbed on top of him and began leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses under his ear traveling down to his chest. She flicked her tongue on his taut nipple and gave it a little bite which earned her a low growl from the Viking before she slid further down to his navel.

"Sookie…" he muttered warningly.

"Mmm Hmm?" she hummed as she left a flurry of wet kisses around his navel while her hand ran over his cotton boxers.

"Don't start something you can't finish."

"Stop talking, Viking."

Sookie's dainty little fingers slid inside his boxers and found his shaft. Eric lifted his hips, a reflex reaction from the unadulterated desire that was creating spikes flogging his insides. He felt his erection throb painfully against her hand as she rubbed it up and down.

He watched her wet her lips before her mouth took the top of his length, taking it a little at a time. He jerked his head back as he sucked in a much-needed breath while she made small whimpering sounds that almost pushed him over the edge. He fought the impulse to push her head lower to make her go deeper. She wasn't a whore. She was his. His delicate, ambrosial lover that must be treated as such.

"Fuck, Sookie," he grumbled under his breath when she bobbed her head, while her hand gripped the part she couldn't take in anymore.

Eric didn't know how much more he could take. It wasn't because it was the best blow job he had received. He had better from his more experienced conquests.

It wasn't because it was a masterpiece. It was sloppy even. But that only made it even sweeter. Because he knew she was inexperienced in such a task. He was her first and – he would make goddamn sure he would be the only one - to receive such a favor from her.

A primordial growl erupted from the Viking's chest before he grabbed Sookie's shoulder and tugged her to go back up.

Sookie pulled away and the sheepish, apologetic look on her face made his heart clench.

"It was bad, wasn't it?" she asked meekly.

His face twisted into a scowl before he pulled her up. "Fuck, Sookie! Don't you ever say that," he snarled. "Do you have any idea how fucking crazy you're driving me?"

"Then why did you stop me?" she asked, still unconvinced, as she gnawed at her lower lip.

"Because it's my fucking turn," he growled before he clamped his hands on her waist and dragged her upward until her mound was hovering above his face. He didn't give her a chance to object before he lifted his head, swiped her panties to the side and started lapping at her entrance, making Sookie moan and mew wantonly above him. Stripped of her inhibitions she started rocking her hips in sync with his talented tongue, making Eric growl in appreciation.

Eric pushed a single digit inside her and Sookie strangled a sob as she felt her orgasm building up inside her. Without so much of a warning she came in his mouth and Eric grabbed her ass to keep her in place as he claimed his prize.

He finally released her when he felt her frenzy winding down. He reached for his drawer and pulled out a condom before he flipped her on her back as he kneeled on the bed.

Sookie was still limp and boneless when he took her panties off and grabbed her ankles. He slung her legs on his shoulders and seized her hips before he pushed himself inside her in one deliberate thrust. Sookie choked back a sob as she clutched onto the bed spread to anchor herself as she braced herself for the onslaught of the Viking. She was still sensitive, reeling from her previous orgasm, but with Eric's relentless pounding she was back into the brink of nirvana in no time.

She was whimpering and wriggling at the same time as she tried to meet his thrust, never breaking eye contact. Eric's eyes darkened with lust and Sookie couldn't decide if she would be flattered or alarmed at his bestial reaction toward her.

"Oh god…" she whimpered as she gripped his arm that was still clutching her hip, trying to bring him back to earth. She met his gaze and was startled at the burning intensity in his eyes. If she hadn't known better she would have thought Eric was harboring a deep-seated rage toward her. "Eric…" she whispered again and was rewarded when she noticed his features soften a notch lower.

His inner conflict was showing and he despised how clumsy he was getting.

'_Fuck, Sookie, I love you.'_ He wanted to say but he didn't want to sound like a fucking pussy who spews out stupid declarations all because he was as high as a fucking kite.

His pounding became erratic as he stared at her and marveled at how she could look so fucking innocent with no clothes on. How someone who looked so breakable could be so terrifying. How she could command him with a stare or destroy him with a whimper. He kept his gaze on her, probing her for answers he knew she wouldn't give him. Why couldn't he just quit her, he thought for the nth time.

'_Fuck you, Sookie Stackhouse. And fuck me for falling into your trap.'_

"Oh god, Eric, I'm so close. Don't stop. Don't you dare stop," she said in a tone that was a cross between pleading and demanding.

The edge in her voice was his cue as he drove harder and faster inside her eliciting raspy cries from the Southerner.

Her hips tightened before they shook against his grip as she came. He clenched his jaw as he felt her squeezing his manhood inside her. But he wasn't going to succumb to the call of her tight sheath as he held his orgasm a few more minutes longer until he felt her coming back to him, getting worked up to yet another climax.

He had lost count how many times he had made her come. He was too consumed with the disturbing notion that he could no longer delude himself that he was the one doing the claiming.

* * *

**E/S**

They were lounging at the couch watching a pay-per-view movie, hair still wet from the bath they took together when Pam came busting through the door like a tropical monsoon.

Eric glanced at Pam before he shook his head and tsked. Sookie, on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear as she looked up at the leggy blonde. "Remind me to keep that door bolted shut," the Viking mumbled to Sookie.

"Did I miss something?" Pam asked as she waltzed into the living room and sat at the single chair beside the sofa.

"Is there a reason you're here, Pam?" Eric asked exasperatedly.

Sookie threw him a warning look before she turned to Pam. "Don't mind him. He's just grouchy because he's going to wear plaid again tomorrow."

Apparently, Sookie had made a wager with Eric that Pam, their perpetual bubble buster, would stroll in the suite to snoop or meddle before the night was over. Eric refuted as he counted on his second-in-command's compliance toward him. However, it turned out Sookie's instinct was more reliable than his when it came to Pam.

Pam sniggered with genuine amusement. "Plaid shirt again?" she gushed. "Have I ever told you how much I love you, Sookie?"

"Not yet," Sookie quipped with an excited chortle.

Eric swallowed thickly as he stared at the two women and how much he resented Pam at that exact moment. How Pam could blurt out those words with ease without the fear of Sookie fleeing from her.

"Ah, look at you two. Bonding over my misery. Fun times," Eric quipped acidly disguising his contempt.

"What are you talking about? You look dashing in that shirt. Like a younger, dapper, Tim McGraw," Sookie complimented. _'Plucked straight out of my dreams,'_ she almost added but didn't want to sound like a pitiable groupie.

"Yes. If Tim McGraw and the rest of Nashville threw up on you. Have you seen the file I sent you?" Pam retorted before she pulled out the white tablet from inside her criminally expensive bag.

Eric took it and began scrolling the pages. "Hmm… They're not actually hideous. They got my good side," he said before he passed the iPad back to Pam. Sookie couldn't help but peer over the screen when it passed by her and her eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as she stared at the image of her and Eric, snogging like a couple of hormonal-crazed teenagers, at the Canyon.

"Sonofamother!" Sookie blurted which made Pam snicker and snort at the same time.

"Congratulations, Sookie! You're now a bonafide celebrity!" Pam jeered.

"What is this?" Sookie asked aghast as she grabbed the electronic tablet from Pam.

"Oh, don't get your panties up in a bunch, Sookie," Pam said offhandedly. "It's already taken care of. Rosalie called me as soon as she saw the photos, she won't be running it anymore and the paparazzo who took this was already debriefed. So you my dear bumpkin friend, will get to live another day in anonymity." Pam winked at her before she flicked her index to Eric and then to Sookie. "But if you two want to keep a low profile can you at least choose to grope each other in a less public place?"

"Wait, what? Who's Rosalie?" Sookie asked like a dumbfounded student caught without her homework.

"Just one of the minions I have in my payroll," Pam replied haughtily. "She's the editor-in-chief of the tabloid that's supposed to run this picture."

Sookie became pensive before she spoke more calmly this time. "You mean to say, y'all knew about the photos of you in the newspaper, way before they hit the 'stand?" Sookie queried, recalling all the stories she had read about Eric Northman and his many flings.

"It's called marketing, Sookie. Those fuckwads can only run Eric's pictures in their papers if we allow them to," Pam replied again while Eric stayed silent, watching Sookie's every reaction.

"Eric?" Sookie turned to the Viking. "Did you know we were being followed?"

Eric shook his head. He honestly didn't. He was utterly preoccupied earlier and he castigated himself for his complacency. That could never happen again. Not when he was with her.

"It's either they're getting better or you're getting sloppier, Eric," Pam butted in.

"It won't happen again," Eric rasped in a lethal tone.

Pam nodded mutely, knowing damn well when it was time to shut up. Even Sookie was quick to discern the absence of levity in Eric's voice.

After a pregnant pause, Pam leaned back in her chair. "By the way Sam's asking when Sookie will be ready to start."

Sookie turned to Eric. "I can start today," she said eagerly.

"No. We'll go back to work tomorrow. I'm not letting you go yet." The words had rolled off his tongue before he had the chance to stop them and as expected he saw Pam quirking her perfectly lined eyebrow at him with a knowing smile dancing on her lips.

He was very careful not to let Pam see his overly doting side. Eric knew Pam was not one to miss teasing him about his ridiculous obsession with Sookie.

Luckily for Eric, he was saved by the bell as his mobile phone rang, demanding his attention.

It was Jake Purifoy. He excused himself as he took the call in the adjacent bedroom, leaving Sookie and Pam alone.

"Is it true you managed to drag Eric to a church?" Pam asked as soon as the Viking closed the door behind him. "And he didn't burst into flames?"

Sookie snickered but decided to ignore Pam's sarcastic remark. "The dresses you sent are too much. And don't think I didn't notice you cut off the tags so I couldn't return them."

"Sookie, if you're going to work here, you need to dress the part. That tomboy look you're so keen on sporting just won't do. I tried giving away the dreadful outfit you've worn yesterday and even the Salvation Army had refused to take them," Pam deadpanned.

Sookie huffed. "Ouch!" she placed a hand over her chest as though she was stabbed before she rolled her eyes in disdain. "You know it would hurt even more if I didn't know how much of a snob you are," she said dryly.

"Why thank you. I try hard to live up to my billing," Pam sniggered.

Sookie fought the urge to snort derisively at the leggy blonde. She knew being snippy was part of the Ravenscroft package. The same thing as smugness was Eric's. Those were their defense mechanisms to keep other people at bay. They weren't exactly a very trusting bunch, just like her.

Something had been bugging her since she got her new set of clothes earlier and she thought it would be the perfect time to get her questions out while Eric was still occupied.

"Do you always play personal shopper for Eric's …" Sookie started, not really sure how to phrase her query without sounding intrusive or downright insecure.

"Fuck buddies? Lay of the night? Slut Machine with a U?" Pam finished for Sookie.

Sookie bit her lip before she nodded wryly. Leave it to Pam to make an awkward situation even more embarrassing.

"Of course not! I'm not Rachel Zoe. And if I am, they cannot afford me. I only get those bimbos out of his bed before he returns with another tramp," Pam replied casually and a bit too flippantly for Sookie's taste.

'_Oh gee, that's comforting,'_ Sookie thought sarcastically as she smoothed out the crease of her new purple sundress.

But Pam was also quick to pick up on Sookie's mood shift as she tilted her head to the side, studying the Southerner. "Is that - are you?"

"Don't say jealous!" Sookie snapped. "I'm not!"

Pam chuckled gustily, utterly pleased with herself. "What happened to not having a heart he can break, huh?" she asked sardonically.

"Must we really do this, Pam?" Sookie asked in exasperation. Damn, was her poker face really getting that lousy?

Pam's smile evaporated as her face turned somber before she leaned forward. "Do you know how many women have set foot inside this suite, Sookie? Aside from the cleaning staff, of course."

Sookie was not sure if it were a rhetorical question so she kept mum.

"Two. And I'm one of them," Pam replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "Eric doesn't bring girls up here. This is his batcave. The only place he could have privacy. And the fact that you're watching Ben Stiller with him in here is proof enough that you're in the major league, sweetheart."

Sookie didn't like Pam's baseball analogy. Because if there were a league then it meant there were still competition. But she swallowed the bile rising up her throat. What mattered was here and now. She would just cross the bridge when she gets there.

Her poignant musings were disrupted when Eric emerged from the next room, his face unreadable as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"What is it?" Sookie asked worriedly as she met him halfway across the room. She recognized that expression and all the telltale of his agitation.

"It's the Rat," he started when he reached Sookie. "He's dead."

Sookie blanched as her mind zoomed back to the last time she saw Mac Rattray inside Big Tony's interrogation room.

"How?" Sookie breathed.

"He was found hanging inside his cell this morning. He just moved in to High Deserts three days ago to serve 20 years to life for murder. It appeared that he was a person of interest in the murder of a hooker in Reno three years ago but because he was in the wind they couldn't run his DNA until Jake brought him in last week."

Sookie was rendered speechless, recalling the Rat's threat to bury her alive and how easy it must have been for the detestable swindler to follow-up on that promise. She suppressed a shiver as she tried to bring her focus back to Eric.

"The coroner declared it as suicide," Eric added. "Jake couldn't request for an autopsy since they weren't related."

"But you don't think it was suicide," Sookie murmured as she studied Eric's features.

Eric shook his head. "Tony didn't think so. He said the asshole's been begging them not to kill him and actually looked relieved when Jake brought him to LVPD. That scumbag had fought tooth and nail to stay alive. He didn't survive Big Tony's wrath only to succumb to manic depression."

"Russell?" Sookie asked, following Eric's train of thought.

Eric gave a terse nod.

"Why?" It was Pam's turn to ask.

"To send a message," Sookie answered for Eric. _'To let us know that no one's safe.'_

Eric didn't know if he should be comforted by the fact that Sookie could easily read his mind and finish his sentences or should be scared shitless for the fact that she was getting embroiled deeper and deeper into the intricate underdwellings of Russell Edgington.

"What's the plan?" Pam asked when Eric turned contemplative.

"I'm going to Tony's tonight. This doesn't change anything. Russell wants to play mind games to unhinge us. Throw us off," he said in a serious tone before her turned to Sookie and held both her hands. "Don't let him," he stressed with his fierce blue eyes boring into her.

"I won't," she answered quickly without a trace of doubt.

A bittersweet smile crossed his lips before he kissed her temple. It was actually foolish of him to ever think someone like her would be easily scared off and Russell was a bigger fool for thinking so little of his Sookie.

"Are we still sticking to the old plan?" Pam asked.

"I'm bringing in a new player in the fold," Eric replied, towing Sookie back into the couch to sit.

"Who?" queried Pam, who was now leaning forward to Eric and Sookie.

"De Castro."

Pam's lips curved into a Cheshire grin as though she just heard a very juicy gossip. "Now it's a party."

"Who's De Castro?" Sookie asked as she looked back and forth between Eric and Pam.

"Felipe De Castro's the old Victor Madden. He had been Russell's main man - the one who helped Edgington build his empire for decades up until five years ago," Eric explained.

"And you trust this guy?" Sookie asked not sure if there were any underlying reasons why Eric would rely on someone who had been so close to their enemy. "Why?"

"Because Felipe wants Victor and Russell gone as much as I do. Probably even more. You see, Felipe is Victor's mentor. He took in that asshole who was only a lowly bookie in Liverpool. He groomed Victor and introduced him to Russell. Madden became Felipe's lapdog, doing small errands for the Spaniard," Eric explained, recalling the time when his father, Godric, told him that Felipe should not put his confidence on someone who couldn't look him straight in the eyes like Victor Madden. How perceptive Godric was.

"What Felipe didn't count on was Madden's delusions of grandeur. Madden got greedy and used his snake tongue to create a rift between Russell and Felipe, telling Edgington that Felipe was playing double agent for the Feds. Then the asshole went in for the kill and framed up Felipe when Russell's meth lab in Amsterdam got busted," Eric continued rehashing in a levelled tone. He knew Sookie was tough enough to take in all the malevolence of his world but he still wanted to ease her in gently.

"Then what happened?" Sookie prodded.

Pam, who was at first thrown off at the amount of information Eric was sharing with Sookie, immediately got her bearings back as she resumed telling the Southerner the legend of the Spaniard.

"The Amsterdam hit was a huge blow to Russell and he went ballistic thinking he was betrayed by Felipe, the one closest to him. So he ordered a hit on De Castro and asked Madden to do it himself to show his loyalty to Russell. Madden didn't even bat a fucking eyelash when he agreed. We found out from our mole at the Grand what Madden had planned for Felipe so Eric pulled the old switcheroo on Madden and helped Felipe fake his own death," Pam drawled in her signature detached tone.

"Switcheroo?" Sookie queried as she tried to keep up with the story.

"Madden decided to pull the old bomb in the car trick. That fuckhead is cunning but he sorely lacks imagination," Eric chimed in. He then told Sookie in detail how Kibwe put an unclaimed corpse from the city morgue in Felipe's car and added a few more explosives in the automobile that were designed to go off remotely. With perfect timing and some tweaking with the surveillance camera, the car exploded at the basement parking of the Grand which claimed four of Russell's luxury cars as well. There was barely enough meat left on the corpse with the amount of explosives that the forensics couldn't gather enough sample for identification.

"While Madden was clinking glasses with Russell as the new CFO, Felipe was already halfway across the world," Eric finished with a pleased smile as though he was reminiscing a treasured memory.

"I still don't understand, Eric. Why did you help this De Castro guy in the first place?" Sookie inquired, putting the last pieces of the puzzle together.

"Felipe's one of my father's closest friends," Eric replied without missing a beat. "I found out he was the one who vouched for me during the whole Tabitha fuck-up. He's the reason why Russell didn't kill me when he had the chance. But since I couldn't go and declare war on Russell, I could only help Felipe escape without implicating myself."

"And it's also Eric's way of giving Russell a big 'Fuck-You'," Pam interjected with a devilish pout.

"That, too," Eric turned to his lieutenant and the two exchanged a smug look.

While Eric and Pam tried to make light of the seemingly dark and sinister events of the past, Sookie couldn't help but feel the weight of the takedown fall heavily on her shoulder. For a long time Eric had refused to engage Russell in an all-out war for self-preservation. And now he was sounding off the horns and calling an army left and right. Why? She didn't need to be neuroscientist to figure it out.

It was because of her.

And the truth was stifling. Like a nightmare she couldn't wake herself from.

What if something happened to him? What if he weren't ready to take on such a behemoth opponent? She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts instantly. No. She had lost so much already. Losing Eric was not an option.

Eric turned to Sookie and noticed a cornucopia of emotions swirling in her usually composed features. For a moment he feared she would bolt out of the door and run. Run away from him.

'_Fuck, Northman! You scared her!'_

Eric grasped for words, something he could say to make her realize that no one – no goddamn fool – would ever lay a hand on her. And that he would do everything humanly possible to guarantee it.

He inched closer to her and cupped both her cheeks in his hands. "I won't let anyone hurt you," he said solemnly. He didn't give a damn if Pam were watching. She could take a video for all he cared.

Sookie wanted to tell Eric that it was not Russell she was terrified of but him. She was worried about Russell, who wouldn't be? The very notion that Russell Edgington could snap her like a twig was worrisome but it wasn't the worst-case scenario. She wasn't afraid to die. It was inevitable.

What was making her hair bristle and spine rigid was the notion that Eric Northman was slowly taking something from her that she would not be able to get back. Yup, guessed it right: her freaking beating (probably larger than normal) heart that wasn't supposed to exist or should have at least stayed frozen and unaffected by Eric Northman's glamour.

For as long as she could remember her mantra had always been: _Leave them, before they leave you. Hurt them, before they hurt you_. It had worked like a charm every single time. Nobody ever took the trouble of getting past her first line of defense.

No one but _him_.

And it was turning her into one big coward - ready to take off at the drop of a hat.

But tried as she might she couldn't get herself to run away from him. She had tried. Heaven knows, she had. But every step she had taken just brought her closer to him.

Sookie finally looked up and met his eyes. She could feel rebellious tears pricking her eyes and she didn't want him to see them spilling. She didn't want him to think she was weak and frightened, because she wasn't.

She wasn't.

She wasn't.

She almost laughed at her own drollness. She had no qualms charging into the Grand and spit into the face of the people who caused her father's downfall but she was petrified to let Eric Northman see how feeble she was when it came to him. She should really learn how to put things in the right perspective. Fucking pathetic.

Sookie heaved a sigh and put on her mask of diffidence. Her eyes darted toward Pam, who was also looking at her warily. "Careful, Eric. If you keep saying things like that Pam might think you're falling in love with me," she said brazenly, a sly smile creeping up her face.

She was trying to hit two birds with one stone. One was to break the excruciating silence she had caused. And the other one was to test a freaking long shot theory. Would he flinch? Would his palms turn clammy from cold sweat? Would he laugh at her inane notion? Or would he say 'took you this long to figure that out'?

Sookie didn't realize she was holding her breath until she felt Eric's warm lips graze hers fleetingly.

It wasn't a passionate kiss. It was a reassuring one. Something Sookie couldn't quite understand until Eric spoke again. "We don't want that to happen now, do we?" he said in a clipped tone.

Right there. In a casually but brutally honest way, Eric had given her her answer.

She flashed him a meek smile, schooling her features to look unaffected, while Eric's lips curved into his trademark lopsided smirk.

Neither of them saw Pam roll her eyes, cursing them both for their stupidity. It baffled her how two seemingly intelligent and sharp individuals could be so fucking clueless. She wanted to slap them both hard in the face to make them realize the charade they were so keen on playing was pointless. They could deny it all they want, but she knew, heck even the paparazzo commented on it. They were the picture of two people who couldn't get enough of each other.

Pam gave Sookie a ride home that night. She didn't mention it to Sookie but she was certain she saw Eric trailing close behind them in his Land Rover. She went back to the North, honking twice at Eric to make sure the Viking knew she was aware of his presence. While she was busy manning the casino floor later that night, she sent a group text to Roman, Sam and Marco, daring them for another round of wager. This time she wouldn't make the same mistake as she cast her bet on the Viking and the Southerner for ten more years.

She would have betted forever, but she was no sap.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters.**

**My apologies for taking so long to update. I could bore you all with the details why but I'd rather go back into writing the next chapter while I still could so I could post again before Santa went ho-ho-ho. **

**Thank you so, so, so much for reading and reviewing. And to everyone who put this story on alert. You made winter so much warmer (or is it global warming? ah heck!) I wish I could thank you all one by one and I promise I would very very soon!**

**Shameless plugging time! If you wanted to see some character banners feel free to visit leivasquez . wordpress . com . most of her dream cast were spot on (and downright yummy). **

**More shout out to LostinSpace33 who was so very kind to plug this fic in her own story Les Bon Temps Rouler. Thank you, Mary! Treewitch703 and MyVikingBoyfriend, missed you Jersey!**

** My dear SadieSwirl is out on holiday, so I've no beta, thus asking y'all to bear with me and my many mistakes. **

**Love, love, love my sweets!**


	27. Chapter 27

It was past two in the morning when Eric came back to the North and immediately made his way into the casino to look for Pam. He would have been back sooner if he hadn't made two trips to Sookie's apartment only to turn back as soon as he got in front of her building. He had fought the impulse to go up to her flat in the fear of waking her up. He knew she must have been tired and he wanted her to get as much rest as she could. He never had trouble making a late night drive by before and he wondered if he were losing his flair.

The second time he had found himself beside her sordid apartment – who didn't even have a doorman for fuck's sake – he had allowed himself to stay for a few minutes parking beside the lamp post that was overlooking her living room window. That was when he realized maybe he had really lost it.

'_Fuck.'_ He was fucked indeed and not in the way he had wanted.

"Everything went well with Tony?" Pam asked, pulling him back into the present. They were at the high roller's lounge where she was tallying the night's turnout.

"He will look into the Rat's case. I want to find out how Edgington managed to get to the Rat in High Desert."

The concierge went to their table to deliver Eric's usual drink but the Viking casually waved him off. He didn't need any alcohol in his system. He wanted to be snappy in the morning and a stiff drink would just slow him down.

"I want you to talk to Sookie later. Convince her to move in with me or at least take up residence here where I can keep an eye on her," Eric said in his smooth business tone, disguising his nervousness from his unusual request.

"Don't you have guards posted across her apartment?" Pam asked, looking up from her tablet.

Eric turned his eyes to the high limit area to dodge the scrutinizing gaze of his lieutenant. "She'll be working here with Sam. It's only practical if she has her own room here."

"Of course, let's go with practicality," Pam drawled. "If it's so practical then why don't you ask her yourself?"

Eric let out an audible sigh as he met her probing gaze. "This is fun for you, Pamela?" he snapped with an arch of a brow, irritation creeping in his tone. "We both know how that conversation will go if I ask her. She'll think I'm trying to keep her on a tight leash."

"Isn't that the case?"

"No. That is not the case," he said between gritted teeth. He was starting to doubt why he had asked Pam to do it. Maybe Sam would have been a better choice. At least the Hawk knew when to stop badgering him with aggravating questions. "I want her here because she's open to all kinds of assault in that godawful apartment."

Pam looked reproachfully at the Viking before she returned her focus to her previous task. "Whatever you say, boss."

Eric threw a sideway glance at Pam and saw his second shaking her head in frustration but decided to let it go. He was awfully tired and all he wanted to do was crawl in bed and shutdown in the hope of dreaming of a certain blonde, whose taste still lingered in his mouth.

He stood up from his chair and buttoned his blazer. How had he not noticed the tediousness of wearing suits before? With all the constricting extra buttons that had to be fastened only to be undone again. How he always had to sit rigidly, making him appear more uptight than he actually was.

He would deny it to anyone who would dare ask, but he was beginning to warm up to that awful plaid.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric went back to his suite and couldn't stifle an annoyed grunt at the sight of his perfectly made bed. He had forgotten to instruct housekeeping not to touch his bed when he had left earlier. It was the only thing he was looking forward to as he went up to his suite: The idea that he would still be able to smell her in his pillow and sheets tonight.

Dammit, he was turning into a borderline psychopath with his unruly obsession. _'Borderline? I think you've already crossed that line, fucker.'_

Eric stripped off and took care of his nightly ritual before he flopped on the bed with a groan. He tossed and turned until he finally gave up and made his way to the couch in the adjacent room, dragging a blanket. He might have to ask housekeeping to change his bed into a regular sized one instead of something that could easily fit five people his size.

His bed was ridiculously big.

He pulled the blanket over his head and hoped against hope that no one would see him sleeping on the couch.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie dashed outside her apartment and slammed into the delivery guy who was holding a bouquet of expensive arrangement of blue hydrangeas. She was running late for the lunch shift at Fiordilatte because of the early morning call she had received from her brother. It appeared that Jason had just been informed by the bank in Shreveport that the offshore account they had been sending money to for the past decade had been closed. The bank manager also informed him that the title of the Stackhouse farmhouse would be returned to them in the next couple of weeks.

It seemed that procrastination was not in Eric Northman's handbook.

"Oh shoot! I'm so sorry!" Sookie exclaimed as she offered her hand to the poor fellow who was trying to steady his footing.

"No worries, ma'am." The short delivery guy shrugged with a sheepish grin. "I'm actually lookin' for Miss Sookie Stackhouse?"

Sookie noticed his slight twang and instantly liked the frail looking young man. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse."

"Well, then this is for you Miss, if you can just sign here so I can be out of your hair." He handed her a clipboard where she signed her name before the delivery boy gave her the exquisite bouquet in a glass vase. "Have a good day, Miss!"

Sookie didn't need to check the card to know who sent her the early morning gift.

_Just making sure you won't forget me so soon. -E_

Sookie couldn't help the wistful smile that danced on her lips. _'I couldn't even if I tried.'_

She put the vase on top of the counter and gave each flower an indulgent whiff before she pulled out her mobile phone and started typing a message.

_Got the flowers. They're beautiful. Hated them quickly._

She shoved the phone back in her bag only to check it every five minutes as she made her way to Fiordilatte.

* * *

**E/S**

"Hey doll!" Terry greeted Sookie as soon as he saw her entering the kitchen. Sookie, an excited grin plastered on her face, waved at him before she made her way toward the employees' locker room.

Holly was already there, fixing her hair in front of the mirror. She turned to face Sookie before she rushed to the Southerner's side. "Where were you last Saturday? We've been looking for you after the party. Me and the other girls went out for drinks down at Fremont."

Sookie racked her brain for all sorts of lame excuses while gathering her hair up in a tight bun. "Went straight home, Hol," she replied after a few seconds.

"Uhum. Right. And when did you start living at the pyramid?" Holly asked dryly.

Sookie felt her ears burn as she met Holly's prying gaze.

"You cod!" Holly shrieked, pinching Sookie at the waist. "I saw you exiting the ballroom and rushed to follow you to the elevator. Imagine my surprise when James Bond beat me to the door." Holly raised her thinly-plucked eyebrow at Sookie which made the Southern Belle blush even harder. "So tell me, shall we start addressing you as Madam First Lady now?"

Sookie chewed on her lip before she smiled meekly. "Who else knew?"

"Just me and Terry. Said he wanted to dance with you but was given the death glare by one of Northman's guards. We did the math, adding Helluva Selah's termination in the mix, and the riddle was solved."

"You're here when Selah's fired?" Sookie segued. A lot had happened during the weekend that she had forgotten all about the former executive chef.

"Yep. Oh you should have seen the look on her face when she came out of Mr. Northman's office. She looked like an over-blanched asparagus!" Holly quipped, sniggering haughtily.

Sookie despite her abhorrence toward the former chef de cuisine couldn't help but feel guilty as she imagined Selah tumbling down her pedestal. It must have shown on her face as Holly immediately tried to appease her.

"Oh, hon, don't look so glum. That bitch will not be missed, I'm telling you. Tara would have fired her herself if Selah didn't have an ironclad contract. I heard she even threatened to sue Mr. Northman but the boss just told her to knock herself out. I even called Tara right away and you know what she said?" Holly asked like a giddy child telling her mother she got a star in her homework.

Sookie gave Holly a terse nod to prod her to go on.

"About fucking time!" Holly squealed before she broke into a fit of giggle that was so contagious Sookie joined in spite of her remorse. Selah's detestable personality had really incurred so much odium from her coworkers and Sookie was glad there would be one less person to worry about.

Their laughter tapered off and Holly's expression turned impish again. "So how was it?" Holly asked.

"How's what?"

"Oh don't be like that Sook! Spill it! The Viking's got pretty big hands. Is it true that the bigger the hand, the longer-"

"Hol!" Sookie whisper-yelled as she raised a finger to her lips, pleading the senior line cook to shush. "I am not discussing my sex life with you!"

Holly puckered her lips, her hands akimbo.

"Not yet," Sookie added with a mischievous wink before she marched out of the locker room. _'And no, _it_ was bigger than his hand.'_

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie was up to her elbows kneading pasta dough a couple of hours before lunch service when Marco Alfonso strutted in the kitchen in his usual attire of white shirt and jeans along with his infectious _joie de vivre._

The Southerner looked up from her marble station and found Marco staring at her with an amused expression. She knitted her brows in confusion as to why the Michelin-starred chef would look at her like she had just delivered a bad joke. But her perplexity soon vanished when the kitchen doors tore open again announcing the arrival of the Viking in a blue and gray plaid shirt, faded jeans and black boots.

The employees, who were obviously astounded by Eric's strange outfit - which was a far cry from his tailored suits, tried hard not to gawk at the Viking. But Sookie wasn't one of them as she fixed her gaze at her cowboy who also left his hair tousled, falling loosely on his forehead.

She saw him subtly scour the kitchen, as though searching for one particular face. Sookie couldn't stop visualizing her heart doing clumsy somersaults when the Viking's gaze landed on her. She pressed her lips together to keep from grinning and sighing like a fangirl but her eyes betrayed her as they lit up like freaking light bulbs when the side of his lips tugged into a smirk.

"Can I have your attention please?" Marco called out, drawing the attention back to him. "I want to thank you all for bearing with me for the past couple of weeks. It has been a pleasure working with all of you. Now, before I leave on Wednesday," he paused as his eyes raked over the faces in the room before his shoulders drooped accompanied by a dramatic sigh. "I expected some tears but, I guess stunned silence would suffice."

The crew snickered at his droll kind of mockery while the Viking inched closer to him and hissed, "get on with it, Alfonso," making everyone titter a little louder.

Marco flicked his hand dismissively at Eric and their amiable gesture eased the tension that came with Eric Northman's presence. The Italian chef then went on and announced that he would be overseeing the kitchen while the management assess the best candidate to fill in the shoes of the head chef. Rest assured, he stressed, that the management would be hiring from within and that the kitchen assistants and porters would be moving up as well.

"So - what is that expression you Americans use again?" Marco asked, snapping his fingers in the air. "Ah, yes, I expect you to bring your game face on!" he muttered in a voice that he intended to be rough and tough but only sounded funny in his Italian accent.

Marco let the employees resume with their work as he made his way to Sookie.

"Remind me never to make a bet with you, _mia bella_," Marco whispered furtively. The Southern Belle, who got back to her fist fight with the pitiful dough, bit her inner cheeks to keep from sniggering as she nodded her assent.

She felt Marco swagger away from her station, cackling like a loon, and not a minute later she felt _him_ move behind her.

"Miss Stackhouse, my office please?" Eric's husky voice sounded inappropriately close to her ear.

'_Why, Mr. Northman, I thought you'd never ask,'_ she thought mischievously before she wiped her flour-dusted hands on her apron and followed the Viking into his lair.

Sookie didn't know when she had started yearning for the feel of the hard wood against her back. Probably from the moment Eric had pressed her hard against it when he kissed her that first time in his suite. Or when he had called her into his office the morning after their first breakfast date.

Or…

All other thoughts abandoned her as Eric once again reminded her how skilled he was in the art of snogging.

"You've ruined mornings for me," he whispered as their kiss tapered off, remembering how he had rolled off the couch that morning with a stiff neck and red streaks on his cheek from sleeping without a pillow.

"Well you've ruined me for other men, so I guess that only makes us even," she countered breathlessly.

Eric blew a gusty chuckle against her cheek and she couldn't help but laugh as well.

"You hated the flowers," he said after a while, his face turning somber. Disappointed.

"I like the thought behind them … but, yes, I hate them. They're so beautiful, they're scary. You see, I try to distance myself from beautiful things. They have this way of growing on me," Sookie replied casually trying to make light of the genuine dread seeping into her psyche.

Eric felt the air thicken around them as he locked eyes with her.

He had put a lot of thought into those hydrangeas. He had been told that blue hydrangea was his mother's favorite. It was expensive and timeless. Like Sookie was to him, classic.

It appeared that he had miscalculated the over-analytical mind of one Sookie Stackhouse yet again as the meaning behind her words stung him like a lash of a whip to the back. She wasn't talking about the flowers anymore. _He_ was the beautiful thing she didn't want to grow fond of.

Sookie felt Eric's hand drop from her waist and immediately regretted denigrating his offering. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. It's just -"

Eric smiled bitterly. "I keep forgetting you're not like most girls," he said in a crisp tone. He tried to mask the hurt with the sharpness of his tone.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "You're right. I'm not. I don't like gifts in general. Especially the ones that will wither and die eventually," she snapped back. Why did he have to compare her to his previous conquests? Was that all she was to him? Just another girl.

Eric sensed a storm brewing and he steeled himself to another Sookie hurricane. Luckily for them Marco picked that time to barge in on the room, probably hoping to catch them in the heat of the moment. It was getting heated alright.

"Debbie Pelt is outside looking for you. Pam's keeping her company. Said you moved your meeting with Miss Pelt here?" Marco said in a careful tone, weighing in Sookie's reaction as he quickly sensed the tension in the air.

Eric's gaze flickered to Sookie but the Southerner was quick to divert her eyes to the Italian chef. The Viking thought he saw her lips quiver and her forehead crinkle as though she was upset or pained.

But it could just be his wretched mind, making him see what he wanted to perceive.

* * *

**E/S**

Holly kept stealing worried glances at the Southern Belle the whole time Eric was outside with a feral looking blonde. After being made privy to the clandestine relationship between Sookie and their employer, Holly couldn't help but commiserate with her Southerner friend.

Sookie kept her head down as she resumed pounding chunky dough and Holly almost felt sorry for the floury concoction that was taking a hell of a beating. Holly watched Sookie move on to the fish section where the Southerner gutted an unfortunate salmon with a kind of precision that a serial-killer would covet.

The seasoned line cook couldn't help but wonder if Sookie were imagining it was the bottle-blonde bimbo she was eviscerating or the seemingly clueless Viking.

Holly followed Sookie at the meat section and was wincing every time the Southern Belle thumped the marbled steak like she had some kind of beef with the cow – pun intended.

"Are you okay, hon?" Holly asked after a while, carefully prying the tenderizing mallet from Sookie's ashen knuckles.

"What?" Sookie snapped with a glower then caught herself immediately before she arranged her features to project nonchalance. "I'm sorry. What was that, Hol?" she asked again in a milder tone.

"Wanna go outside for some fresh air? I can bum you a smoke if you want," Holly offered.

Sookie snorted before she took off her sanitary gloves and washed her hands. "That obvious huh?"

"Ya think?" Holly quipped before she tilted her head to the chopping board where a dismal looking slab of meat was laid helplessly. "A little more whacking and you'll turn that steak into a burger patty."

Sookie and Holly made a beeline to the back door as the rest of the crew were busy in the respective stations.

"Dog burn it! I don't know what's wrong with me!" Sookie muttered as she wiped her hands brusquely with the hem of her apron. "I know there's nothing between them but it still pisses me off and I hate it that it pisses me this much."

Holly lighted a cigarette and passed it to Sookie but the Southerner declined. It was bad enough that she was growing addicted to Eric Northman, she was not about to take up another vice.

"What is up with you two? Is it serious?" Holly asked.

Sookie buried her face in her hands. "I don't know," she sighed in defeat. The past few days had been idyllic that she had allowed herself to think that Eric Northman could actually love her. But from the casually cruel way he had dismissed her last night, she wasn't so sure anymore.

"Excuse the French, hon, but do you _love_ him?"

Sookie was rendered speechless, opening and closing her mouth as though she was about to say something. _'Do I? Am I in love with Eric Northman?'_

Whatever reply she was about to spout remained stuck at the tip of her tongue as the back door flew open revealing an unhappy Pam. "What are you doing back here? Lunch service isn't done yet."

Holly put out her cigarette with the heel of her shoes before she dashed back to the kitchen leaving Sookie with their irate manager.

"Are they still out there?" Sookie asked apprehensively.

Pam sauntered toward Sookie as her annoyed expression turned reticent. "It was my idea, Sookie. Last night wasn't the first time he had been seen with you. I've been getting a lot of heat from reporters wanting to know what's the deal with you and Eric. You've got to understand that he had never been spotted with the same woman twice. Except for Nora, but that bitch was an aberration so she wasn't counted. We had to do some damage control and Debbie was a safe choice."

Sookie fixed her gaze at the cigarette butt on the ground and wondered maybe she should have taken a drag to clip the edge off of her riotous mood.

Pam moved in front of the Southerner, returning into her usual dominatrix disposition. "Dammit Sookie, stop your pity party, will you? It's very unbecoming," she chided. If there were one thing Sookie would not be accused of it would be wallowing with self pity. Evidently, Pam knew it as well as she tried to press the Southerner's button.

Pam let her admonishment hang in the air before she continued. "He told me to ask you to move in with him to the North. If that's not commitment enough, I don't know what is."

Sookie, as though on reflex, took a step back as she gaped at the leggy blonde. Eric wanted her to move in to the North? With him? No freaking way. It was too much too soon even with the crazy way they had hit the fast forward button in their relationship.

"So? What's your answer?" Pam asked, raising her perfectly-lined brow.

"I'll think about it," Sookie finally managed to utter as soon as she felt the thrumming in her chest returning to normal.

Disappointment slashed across the leggy blonde's face before her usual bored veneer came back. With a mute sigh, Pam turned around and reached for the door.

"Pam," Sookie called. "I'm not sayin' no. I'm just - I'm confused. How can he possibly ask me to move in with him if he can't even be seen with me? He can't even ask me himself for Pete's sake," she added with a brittle chuckle.

Pam gave her a rueful smile before she shrugged. "What can I say? He's a complicated son of a bitch. But you know that already."

* * *

**E/S**

Eric made a quick trip back to the kitchen looking for Sookie but the Southerner had already left. He cussed under his breath as he tried to call her only to find out that she had left her phone in the employees' quarters in her haste to go to Mandalay Bay.

He checked in on Kibwe and Chow, the two guards tasked to shadow her, and found out that Sookie was indeed on her way to the Mandalay. He gave them strict orders not to let her out of their sights and to give him hourly updates. What the hell was he thinking giving her flowers?

'_Fucking hydrangeas.'_

* * *

**E/S**

"Sookie!"

Sookie felt her stomach churn as soon as she heard his voice._ 'Motherfucker!' _

She thought she might have caught a break when she found out that Victor was out of town which meant she only needed to process her papers and surrender her identification cards with Human Resources and she would be home free. But like a nimbus cloud on a picnic day, Bill Compton just had to be there.

She composed her features to look convivial before she whipped toward the direction of her unwanted caller.

"Bill," she said sweetly. _'Hello, traitor. What kind of lies are you going to weave today?'_

Bill jogged toward her, which looked laughably awkward in his fitted brown suit and pointed leather shoes. "I got here as soon as I could," he said as soon as he reached her.

Sookie furrowed her brows but kept her phony smile on. "Why? What's the hurry?"

"Victor told me you were giving up your job here. I didn't believe him until HR alerted me when you handed your letter," Bill drawled between shallow breaths.

"Yeah, that," Sookie said. "I'm sorry you didn't get to hear it from me."

"So why didn't you tell me?"

Sookie let her gaze fall to her hands to project a look of embarrassment. For the life of her she couldn't figure out how a slimy weasel like Bill Compton could have the gall to question her with a straight face. She realized she must have counted Bill out of the game way too early.

"It all happened so fast. Our head chef was laid off and all of us moved up. I only found out I was going to be promoted last Saturday. Can you believe it? I'm gonna be a line cook!" Her voice raised an octave to sound effervescent. "I thought you'd be happy for me since you were the one who helped me get that job."

"Delighted," Bill said in a clipped tone. His lips pressed into a taut line before he gave her a once over. "And this isn't because you're seeing Eric Northman, is it?"

Sookie virtually heard the sound of a bubble popping in her head as her fake smile quickly made a disappearing act.

'_End scene,'_ a voice in her head spat.

Bill snorted. "I thought you were different Sookie. That you'd be immune to his fuckery," Bill said condescendingly. His dark scornful eyes scrutinized her from head to foot and it made Sookie feel like she was being stripped naked. "I should have known you'd be -"

"What?" Sookie asked challengingly with a vicious glare. "You should have known _what_, Bill?" Her teeth gritted so hard she could practically hear them squeak.

Bill pulled back as he tucked his hands in his pockets. He had the decency to look contrite as his eyes squinted in anguish. "You don't know Eric Northman, Sookie. He's a child pretending to be a man. He's greedy and immature. You are but a toy to him. A shiny new toy to play with until a newer, shinier plaything comes around. I have been with the Northmans far too long to see firsthand what happens to all his toys after he's done with them."

If Sookie earned a nickel for every vilifying remark she had received all her life, she would have had enough money to pay off her father's debt herself. And because of that kind of cruelty she had learned to grow a thick skin. Sticks and stones, they said. Not this time, though. This time, Bill's words were hitting all the soft spots.

She dug her nails into her palms to distract her from the painful throbbing in her chest. She would never let Bill Compton get the last laugh.

"Did you at least get to play with his hand-me-downs?" she said with a leer.

Bill huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Getting cocky, are we? You'd be wishing that was the case when he kicked you to the curb, Sookie," he spat.

Sookie kept her sardonic smile on. "Thank you for your warning, Bill. But I am perfectly aware of what I'm doing," she said in the steadiest voice she could muster. She sidestepped her former neighbor but he was quick to block her path.

"Let me at least take you out for dinner. For old time's sake?" Bill asked, composing his features to appear genial again.

"You have got to be kidding?" Sookie asked with wide-eyed incredulity. "You're askin' me to go out with you after you spent the last few minutes insulting me?"

"There are some things you need to know, Sookie, because clearly you are choosing the wrong side."

Sookie pinched her eyes shut before she took an audible breath. "There are two men waiting for me outside. If I don't come out in the next ten minutes they will barge in here and beat you to a pulp. So you either let me go or we can wait for them to come in here."

She was bluffing. She knew there were men tailing her but they were so damn good blending in that she had no idea where they were. She wondered if Bill would call out her fib since technically they were still inside Mandalay Bay and security guards were a dime a dozen.

A wry sneer crept into the dark-haired man's face. "A few days with Eric and you already sound like him. When this thing blows in your face, Sookie, don't say I didn't warn you."

Satisfied that he got to utter the last word, Bill pushed past Sookie and made his way into Victor Madden's office. He shut the door behind him, pulled his mobile phone from his breast pocket and thumbed a number on his speed dial.

The man on the other line picked up after the third ring.

"William?"

"My apologies Mr. Edgington but I couldn't stop her. Sookie had always been hard-headed and she seemed to have made her mind regarding Northman."

Bill heard Russell cluck his tongue. "Don't beat yourself up, William. Stubbornness runs in her blood. I should know. That was how her father died after all."

Russell didn't wait for Bill to respond before he disconnected the line.

Bill dialed another number and two rings later Victor Madden's voice blared out.

"My contact from Fiordilatte had been let go. She's already back in New York," Bill muttered.

"Did you at least get to fuck her?" Victor asked mockingly.

Bill ignored Victor's retort instantly regretting letting him know of his dalliance with Selah. Bill recalled how Victor ridiculed him for dating the young chef. "Lorena must have done a number on you if you're willing to lower your standard dating that tramp," Victor had told him.

Bill cleared his throat, shaking off his animosity toward Victor. Madden was on his team, Bill reminded himself before he asked Victor of their contingency plan.

"I just got a call from Nora. She's on her way back to Vegas. Arrange her accommodations at the Grand. Russell wants Nora to stir things up with Northman and the Stackhouse girl. I want you to help her," Victor replied. "Things here in Miami are worse than we thought. I might be stuck here until next week and Russell won't be back until the fight. Hold the fort until then."

Bill's lips curled into a sly grin as he tried to picture Nora riling Sookie up. Maybe then Sookie would realize her folly and run back to him.

* * *

**E/S**

"What are we looking at exactly?" Sookie asked Sam Merlotte as she leaned toward one of the giant monitors in one of the private rooms in the security area. Since the Edgington takedown was a cloak-and-dagger mission, only a handful of people were authorized inside the private surveillance room that was surrounded with monitors which were getting direct access of the insidious machinations of Mandalay Bay and MGM Grand.

Sam had asked Sookie to check for inconsistencies at the Mandalay, where she would try to spot the weakest link in the chain of command while the Hawk drew elaborate maps on the blueprint of the MGM Grand.

"We're looking for the service entrance with the least traffic," Sam replied as he magnified a couple of screen shots so Sookie could see the entryways that were commonly used by the MGM employees.

"You still haven't told me what the plan is, Sam," Sookie said.

"I'm under strict order not to 'blab,'" Sam answered using air quotes at the last word. "Eric wants to be the one to tell you. So why don't you just sit tight, relax and watch a movie." He winked. "Once everything's ironed out, he'll tell you everything you need to know."

Sookie rolled her eyes but kept her frustrations to herself. She had not seen Eric since she had left Fiordilatte and she was getting prickly by the minute. After she left Mandalay she went home to change into one of the clothes Pam had gotten for her before she went to the North to report to Sam all the while wishing she would see Eric. She had asked Pam of the Viking's whereabouts and her banter partner only responded with a curt, "meeting with Asian investors."

She didn't ask her again after that. She was afraid she was beginning to sound like the type of girlfriend who couldn't function without her man tethered to her side.

She made note of the few pit bosses she found exchanging furtive glances with some of the high rollers for later consideration. At half past midnight her eyes were starting to get misty from staring at the monitors for too long. Sam, noticing her discomfort, called Pam and asked her to bring Sookie home.

Sookie obliged with a heavy heart. The drive home was arduously quiet but the Southern Belle was too exhausted to break the silence.

Pam bid her adieu before the leggy blonde sped off like an F1 driver. Sookie padded the stairs toward her empty third-floor apartment while she peeled off her brown roll-up blazer she wore over a dark blue dress. She was spewing profanities at her three-inch gladiator sandals that were torturing the balls of her feet, regretting her decision to not use the elevator. Maybe she could sneak in her Chucks tomorrow without Pam throwing a hissy fit, she thought optimistically.

She was looking down at the nefarious pair of shoes that she didn't notice the languid figure watching her with amusement leaning at her door.

"I really should have a word with your boss. He's been riding you hard." Eric's sultry voice startled Sookie, making her gasp. He was no longer wearing his plaid shirt as he suited up once again.

After the initial shock wore off, a gleeful smile made her eyes crinkle as she continued advancing toward the door – and him. "Not hard enough," she quipped.

Eric raised both eyebrows in mock concern. "That's not right. I think we'll have to remedy that," he said teasingly punctuated by a lopsided smirk.

Sookie let out a raspy chuckle. "Is that why you're here?"

Her steps halted when she felt that kind of force field that seemed to surround Eric all the time and she saw his smile falter. "I can't sleep," he said. "My bed's too big."

Sookie's smile grew wider. "But you said mine's too small."

"Still better than the couch." He was lying. His pricey couch was a hundred times better than her springy bed. But there was one major flaw with his luxurious sofa: There was no Sookie in it.

"Then c'mon in." She was glad she was looking down at the knob as she tried to unlock the door because she was sure her girlish simper would broadcast how badly she had missed him.

Even her usually dexterous fingers were being recalcitrant as they kept dropping the keys on the floor. Although she couldn't see him she was certain he was watching her clumsiness with the kind of arrogance that was infuriating but endearing at the same time.

He put two paper bags on top of the counter while giving the hydrangeas a murderous glare.

"Pam said you haven't had dinner yet," Eric said as he started taking out small boxes from one of the paper bags.

Sookie's eyes soften as she stared at him then at the little packages he was lining up at the counter. She recognized the wrapping and by the smell wafting gloriously inside her apartment those boxes had either Thai or Chinese food in them.

"Asian investors?" she asked with a knowing grin.

"I hope you like Chinese."

"Do jeh (Thank you)," she said sweetly.

Eric's eyes widened in amazement. "I didn't know you could speak Cantonese?"

"Siusiu (Just a little)," Sookie said with a shrug and a haughty grin. "I used to play mahjong with my neighbor Mrs. Fortenberry whenever they're down one player. We liked to pretend we're the old ladies in Joy Luck Club."

"You really are full of tricks, aren't you?" Eric said as he circled the counter and tangled his arms around her waist.

"You haven't stumped me yet, Mr. Northman," she intoned. "What's in the other bag? Toothbrush and pajamas?"

Eric chortled before he scooped up a potted bonsai cactus from the brown paper bag. "Here, I picked the ugliest one." He placed the hideous looking plant - that looked like a light bulb with hairy thorns around it- beside the bouquet of hydrangeas and Sookie couldn't help but reach out for it.

"Be careful," he warned. "Those spines hurt like a motherfucker. The guy from home depot said it can withstand the harshest condition and its very low maintenance. It won't die easily, unless you want it to." He let his words linger in the air as he took in Sookie's reaction.

'_Analyze that, Stackhouse.'_

Sookie lifted the potted cacti and studied it closely. It was as ugly as sin but it was the perfect metaphor for them. She looked up at him and gave Eric a thoughtful smile. "I love it." She almost said you instead of it but caught herself before she did.

Some bells could not be unrung. And she was terrified Eric would balk and walk out on her again.

They had late night dinner where she told Eric of her encounter with Bill, omitting parts of her conversation with her former neighbor, particularly Bill's jab at Eric's puerile nature. Those were cheap shots anyway.

What she didn't realize was that the Viking had been watching her back at the North. He almost bolted out of the surveillance room and marched into Mandalay, intent on bashing Bill's face on the cold marble wall. Russell, be damned. But he was stymied in his seat when he heard Sookie, armed with her infamous snark, call out Compton for the asshole that he was.

They talked for hours until Sookie fell asleep curled up on the couch. Eric carried her to her room before he folded himself next to her, bending his legs in an uncomfortable position as he let himself drift off too. Before he succumbed to the night, he realized it was the first time he would sleep beside a girl without doing the nasty. No fuck, just sleep.

That morning, he had woken up with another stiff neck but he didn't mind it all.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters.**

**Love it or hate it, let me know. Be Santa's little helpers and make the holidays extra cheerful. Love, love! Happy holidays!**

**The arrival of the Whora and the Spaniard up next.**

**PS: I'm sure this is riddled with mistakes. Please bear with me. **


	28. Chapter 28

"You did _what_?!"

Sookie bolted out of her swivel chair, startling Sam behind her, as she raced outside the surveillance room pressing the cellphone to her ear.

"What the hell were you thinkin' Jason!" she whisper-yelled once she was out of the control room and into the hallway.

"I don't know, Sook! It just happened. I wasn't thinking," Jason replied feebly at the other end of the line. Sookie was in the middle of her shift with Sam when Jason's call came. Her jovial tone quickly vanished as soon as her brother started talking.

"Damn straight, you're not! Because if you are, you won't put your dick anywhere near the Sheriff's daughter!" she hissed.

An audible sigh sounded from the other line. "I messed up, I know that. You don't need to use that tone with me 'kay?" Jason pleaded apologetically. "Can you please not be Gran Sookie right now and just be my sister? I need you."

Sookie's shoulders sagged as she leaned heavily against the wall, head bowed down. She squeezed her eyes shut and couldn't help but picture the effervescent Jason stripped of his usual flippancy. "What do you want me to do?" she said in a croaky voice.

"They're demanding I marry her before she starts to show."

"Marriage? Are they kidding? How can they expect you to be a good husband, much less a responsible father? Have they met you?" Sarcasm dripped in her voice and she could almost imagine Jason wincing at her caustic remark.

"The shotgun Sheriff Dearborn pointed at me sure didn't look like it was jokin'."

"Shotgun wedding? Not because we live in the South means they have to do something so cliché," Sookie snarked, rolling her eyes. "What about Dawn?" she asked after a few pregnant seconds, remembering Jason's steady girlfriend.

There was a short pause at the other end before Jason spoke again in a raspy voice as though he was choking back tears. "She left. After word got out that Michele was pregnant and that I was the baby daddy, she packed her bags and went to her folks in Dallas. I never even got to say goodbye."

Sookie didn't know who to feel more sorry for, Jason or Dawn. She decided that Dawn deserved her sympathy more.

"You broke our rule, Jase," she whispered. She turned around and faced the wall, running her fingers through the smooth and cold concrete. She was so lost in her conversation with her sibling that she didn't notice Eric emerging behind her.

"We made a pact, remember? We will never be like our parents. We won't get married. We won't be so cruel as to bring a child into this world. The Stackhouse curse ends with us," she said softly, her voice solemn.

Her words were gentle, coming from someone who felt wronged by a broken promise. They weren't meant for Eric. But the cold truth behind her words stung him like the edge of a sharp blade.

Who was he kidding, she was never his. She would never be his. Not completely. All at once he felt like an intruder. An unwelcome guest who had no right to be near her or listen to whatever she had to say to whoever was on the other line.

He turned on his heel and left as silently as he came, wishing he didn't come at all.

"Do you love her?" she asked, oblivious of the man who just walked away from her.

"No. But I will try. For the little bugger," Jason's voice lilted, like he was grinning. "I want this, Sook. And I need you here with me. I'm willing to use my Corbett card on this."

Sookie let out a raspy chuckle. The Corbett card was the thing they made up after they buried their father more than a decade ago. It was like a unity card that they could use when one of them royally screwed. No questions asked.

"That bad, huh?" Sookie replied mockingly. She weaved her fingers through the tips of her hair – a nervous tick she got from Eric – before she sighed. "Okay. I'll be there."

* * *

**E/S**

Eric had locked himself in his office ever since he had left Sookie at the surveillance area. He had already downed half a bottle of scotch when he heard soft knocks at his door. He knew it was Sookie and he instantly cursed himself for knowing even the sound of her knock.

He didn't look up from his table nor did he ask her to come in. He didn't know if he were ready to talk to her yet. She was a liar. A cold-hearted bitch who did not know how to love anybody that wasn't a Stackhouse.

'_Lucky me,'_ he thought bitterly.

Another set of knocks, this time more fluid, insistent. He continued to ignore them as he slammed back the rest of his stiff drink. He didn't know if he wanted her to come in without an invitation. Her annoying Southern manners would forbid her to do just that. He poured himself another shot of the golden liquid. His vision was getting blurry and he knew he would have a hell of a hangover tomorrow but tonight he didn't care. He wanted to dull the irrational aching in his chest and he hated himself for being such a big pussy.

'_Fucking Sookie.'_ Yeah, fucking Sookie that was the only thing he was good for. Fucking her while letting himself believe he stood a chance against her father or brother or whoever fuck she put on top of her list.

But not him. He wasn't on her list.

He didn't even make the cut.

In the throes of self-pity he realized how he was always walking a tightrope without a net underneath when it came to her. He was always trying to please her. Like a puppet on strings. Dance, Eric. Laugh, Eric. Make a fool of yourself, Eric.

'_You're an asshole, Eric.'_

He had his schedule rearranged so he could make time for her. The stiffness of his neck was the result of nights of sleeping in her cramped bed. All because she was too proud to move in with him.

He was always the one doing the adjusting because she didn't want to bend to meet him halfway.

'_Bitch.' _

"Eric?" Sookie's voice seeped in behind the double French doors.

No answer.

"Eric? Can I come in?"

Silence.

"I'm coming in so you better be decent," she said with a hint of levity before he heard the knob turn and saw her walk in with an anxious expression.

She closed the door softly behind her and began marching toward him. Eric pretended to read one the papers cluttered on his desk.

"Busy?" she asked cautiously, circling his massive table as she tried to peek at the paper he was holding.

Eric nodded mutely.

"I'm going home. Are you comin'?"

"Not tonight."

Sookie moved in front of him, lowering her head to study his face that he quickly arranged to project utter apathy. Her gaze darted at the half-empty bottle at the side and the half-filled glass in front of him.

"Are you drinking?"

'_Well done, Einstein,'_ he thought tartly.

"What do you want, Sookie?" he asked as he finally met her gaze.

Sookie flinched, taken aback by the sheer coldness in his tone. "What's with you? Did I do something wrong?"

Eric reined in his temper as he put his mask of ennui back on. "I'll be here for a while. I'll tell Pam to bring you home."

Sookie's eyes never left his as she looked at him closely. "What's wrong, Eric?" she asked, concern etched on her face as she furrowed her brows. "Is there something I can do?"

'_Love me,'_ he almost said but that would be like asking her to invent a time machine so he could go back to the days when he didn't know she existed.

"I'm just busy." He picked up another folder from his desk and started leafing through the pages inside it.

Sookie bit back her words as she smoothed the hem of her buttoned-down brown dress and clutched her cashmere cardigan tighter. Eric stole a sideway glance at her and couldn't help but admire the way the soft fabric clung to her svelte figure.

For a fleeting second he thought of bending her over his desk - her dress hiked up to her waist and her underwear ripped off. He thought how satisfying it would be to fuck her until she screamed his name and begged for release. But he knew even if he did all that, she would still be in control. She would still have this maddening power over him.

Sookie placed a finger under his chin and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, Eric."

He clenched his jaw to stop himself from grabbing her to give her a decent kiss.

She made her way to the door but turned around as she reached for the knob. "Can I have a few days off the week after the next? Jason's getting married – well, is bein' forced into marriage - after he knocked up the Sheriff's daughter."

"Great. At least someone figured out how to catch a Stackhouse," he said with a dry chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She didn't realize she was squeezing the knob tightly as she glared at him.

Eric blatantly ignored her query as his lips tugged at the side forming a lopsided smirk. "Aren't you going to invite me to the wedding?"

Sookie loosened her grip on the knob as she whirled toward him. She had wanted to ask him. But the invitation she had practiced over and over in her mind remained in her head, scared off by Eric's foul mood.

She was about to ask him if he could come with her when Eric flicked his hand in the air. "Don't bother. I don't want to be an afterthought." He swiveled his chair to turn his back to her. "Close the door behind you."

Sookie pressed her lips into a taut line, her fingers digging into the flesh of her palms. She wanted yell, hurl profanities at him, demand not to be treated with such harshness just because he was having a bad day. But she kept her mouth shut. She took a deep breath before she hushed, "bye, Eric." With that she quickly turned the knob and left his office.

Eric slammed his palms on his desk as soon as she was out of his sight.

'_Fucking Sookie!'_ Yes, that would have been a fantastic idea: fuck her and forget her. He was tired of feeling so helpless.

A willing victim.

Like all the women he had bedded to feed his carnal desires only to be forgotten once they leave his bed.

Karma, thy name is Sookie, he thought before he smashed the empty glass against the wall.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie was on her way to the bus stop en route to Fiordilatte for the lunch shift when a red Ferrari zoomed right past her making her step back with a yelp and the hair on the back of her neck bristle. She was still infuriated with the way Eric casually dismissed her last night and the reckless driver was grating on her wafer-thin patience.

She stepped off the curb again to cross the road but the Ferrari came zipping back, driving like maniac, as it circled back and stopped beside her.

"Sonofa! Do you have eyes!" Sookie yelled whacking the hood of the car. The red flashy automobile came to a full stop as the engine died down.

Sookie steeled herself to scream all the swear words in her vocabulary to the barbaric driver who almost ran her over but the words got stuck in her throat when she saw the person emerge from inside the car. The driver placed her porcelain hands on top of the roof and propped her chin on top of them before her lips warped into a wicked smile.

"You should really watch where you're going. You could have dented my car," Nora spat as she leered at the stunned Southerner.

Sookie gripped the strap of her gym bag as she tamped down her temper. She would not let Nora get a rise out of her. Sookie bit her tongue until it almost bled to keep all the vile words from spilling out as she sidestepped the car and continued on her way to the terminal across the road as though Nora was but a figment of her overly active imagination.

"What's the rush? Afraid Eric has already grown tired of you by the time you make it to the North? Don't worry, darling, you look like you still got a few more miles in you before he drives you to the ground," Nora said crisply as she kept up with Sookie.

Sookie kept mum but was stymied at another island as the light turned green and the cars started passing by.

"Oh I see. You're ignoring me to prove that you're better than me. How dignified. Unusual coming from a white trailer trash," Nora kept spewing as she paused beside Sookie.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the men who were tailing her from her apartment advance toward her and Nora. Sookie shook her head to stop them in their tracks. She didn't need them to handle someone as pitiable as Nora who was obviously trying to agitate her with her hurtful – albeit unimaginative – remarks.

Sookie kept her head forward, waiting for the traffic to cease so she could walk away from the spiteful brunette.

Nora caught Sookie's gesture at the two men and cackled sharply. "Oh you also have babysitters? Lovely. I forgot how controlling Eric can be. See over there," Nora said as she pointed at black SUV to her right. "I've got nannies too. They're also from Eric. Old habits die hard I guess. You see, he likes to keep his assets close by. To make sure I don't go wandering around while he's still busy fucking the help."

Sookie clenched her jaw. There was still a long line of cars passing by and for a second she thought that the universe was conspiring against her.

"I heard you're working in the kitchen?" Nora continued in her one-woman show, hurling diatribes at Sookie. "Let me put this in a vernacular you can actually understand. You are like a palate cleanser to Eric. An amuse bouche that he gorges himself with until he's ready for the main course."

Sookie spared Nora a glance. She watched as the brunette twisted her lips into a lopsided smirk that resembled so much like Eric's. She felt a sharp spike in her chest when she thought of how much of Eric had rubbed off into the beautiful brunette.

"Oh dear, don't tell me you thought you were the main dish?" Nora said with mock empathy.

"Did you?" Sookie asked condescendingly. "Is that what happened to you? You made yourself believe _you're_ the main course?" Sookie let out a hollow laugh before she gave Nora a once over. "That's just sad."

Nora's malevolent smirk crumbled into a snarl as her hand stabbed the air and made its way to Sookie's cheek. But the Southerner was already anticipating her assault and caught Nora's wrist with ease before she twisted it behind the brunette's back. Nora squealed in pain as her arm contorted against her back.

"The difference between us Nora is that I know where I stand. You, on the other hand, are still living in your own fantasy land where you think Eric could actually love you," Sookie hissed at Nora's ear making the British broad grunt in abject hatred. Sookie bent Nora's arm a bit further to get her point across.

Sookie glanced at the road beside her and noticed a few bystanders watching them with a mix of wariness and curiosity. As though on cue the cars slowed down as the lights turned red. She cast one last glare at Nora, who was still recoiling from pain, before she let go and scurried to the other side of the road and boarded the first bus she could find.

* * *

**E/S**

"Sookie! Sookie Stackhouse?" a shrilly voice called out behind her as Sookie got out of the cab at the lobby of the North.

Sookie's instinct told her not to turn around and face her caller especially after her unfortunate encounter with Nora earlier that day, but the Southern Belle inside her that her Gran had raised forced her to twist her head around and acknowledge the intruder.

"Yes?" Sookie replied guardedly as she pivoted and saw a redhead running toward her. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, my name's Alicia." The girl offered her hand and Sookie took it with a bit of reluctance. "I write for The Sun. I just want to get your statement regarding this." She showed Sookie her mobile tablet and started sifting through the screen where images of her and Nora bombarded Sookie.

There were a number of snapshots with her and the loathsome brunette. At first glance, they looked like two women catching up, gossiping even, but the last couple of shots were the ones that made Sookie's blood boil. They were photos of her grappling Nora which to an outsider could easily put Sookie in a bad light. It looked like the Southerner was the villain who was harassing the helpless brunette.

Just when Sookie thought it couldn't get worse, it did as her eyes raked over the screen. It was the layout of tomorrow's society page where the photo of her seizing Nora by the wrist took half the page with words: _Catfight Over Casino Honcho_ strewn over the picture. British socialite gets attacked by one of Eric Northman's jilted partners, were written under the headline.

Sookie diverted her eyes away from the screen as she made her way toward the revolving doors.

"Miss Stackhouse!" Alicia yelled as she tried to keep up with Sookie's fast legs. "Any comment? Miss Gainesborough already gave us her side and I have to say she was pretty convincing. Don't you want to counter her accusations?"

Sookie continued to ignore the invasive reporter as she dashed toward the elevators. Alicia didn't get to ask another question as two men in suits approached her and ushered her in the direction of another lift. Sookie couldn't bring herself to care about the redhead. All she wanted to do was get away from her and retreat into the comfort of her shell.

She made a quick detour to the comfort room to arrange her distraught state before she went inside the private control room where Sam was waiting for her. By the look on his face, he was aware of the scuffle downstairs but he was polite enough not to plague her with questions.

Sookie schooled her features to seem indifferent. As though her heart wasn't pounding so hard against her chest. Like her eyes weren't getting pricked with unshed tears. Like her hands weren't shaking because all she wanted to do was claw Nora's face off. Like she didn't want to shout and cry and punch someone in the teeth because she was livid and frustrated and terrified all at the same time. Yes, she wanted to seem unaffected as her fingers started drumming at the edge of the table while she fixed her gaze on the monitor she wasn't really seeing anymore.

Half an hour after she came in, the door burst open again as Eric strolled inside, his features evidently darker but still vague. He stood beside her, looking down at her without uttering a word. Sookie didn't take her eyes off the monitor as she started clicking on the mouse, magnifying a couple of small screens.

"Come with me," he said, breaking the impasse.

"Sorry, boss. Busy," she replied without looking up.

Eric lowered his head, just above the top of her hair. "I don't think you've heard me right. I'm not asking. I am _telling_ you to get up and follow me like an adult or I'll haul you out of your chair like a child," he gritted out.

Sookie snapped her head at him before she stood up, slowly. Her eyes narrowed, filled with contempt. She darted a glance at Sam beside her and the Hawk, who was shifting nervously at his seat, tried hard to be invisible as he kept his eyes on the huge monitor.

As much as she would like to confront Eric, she didn't want to make a scene in front of Sam or any of the other employees in the surveillance area. With an arched eyebrow and pursed lips, Sookie walked out of the room and followed Eric in silence on the way to his suite.

Pam was there waiting for them, her expression a perfect blend of concern and irritation.

"What did she say?" Eric asked Pam as soon as they entered the living room.

Pam went on to tell Eric that she had taken care of the pushy reporter and that the page would not see the light of day. She also stressed that Alicia or any other reporter would not dare approach Sookie so brazenly again if they wanted to keep their jobs in Vegas.

It appeared that Nora had bribed Alicia and her photographer to follow her when she confronted Sookie earlier. Nora also gave an exclusive interview to the journalist, insisting that she and Eric were exclusively seeing each other and that Sookie was the shunned lover who kept forcing herself on the Viking.

Eric kept his silence as he poured himself a drink at the bar. After Pam was done rehashing her conversation with the writer, she inched closer to Sookie and asked her if the Southerner were alright. Sookie replied with a tight smile and a terse nod. Pam gave Eric a perfunctory nod before she exited the suite.

"I need to get back to work," Sookie said after the silence became unbearable.

"Why didn't you call me when Nora confronted you?" he asked hurriedly.

Sookie's steps halted as she whisked toward him, fuming. "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd care considering how _busy_ you were last night."

Eric downed his drink and slammed the glass on the bar. He took an audible breath before he composed his features to remain calm. "I will take care of Nora. She will not be a problem anymore. I will put additional security detail on you."

"More sitters?" she said bitingly. "I can take care of myself. Didn't you see the pictures? Nora's the one who needs more nannies." Echoing the brunette's scathing comment about their guards.

Eric didn't take her bait. He knew she was back on attack mode again. Classic Sookie strategy when she felt like she was backed against the wall. "What I'm trying to say is you don't need to worry about her anymore."

"I'm not afraid of her," she snapped.

An arrogant sneer crept up his face, but his eyes remain dull, devoid of their usual playfulness and warmth. "Of course you're not," he said acidly.

"You didn't let me finish," Sookie began. "I'm not afraid of her because I'm afraid I'm gonna be like her. That's your MO. That's what you do best. You will make some poor girl fall in love with you. Make her feel like she's fucking special. Like she's the only one that matters. She will try to deny it. To fight it. To squash the butterflies. She will tell herself that she's having a stroke rather than admit you're the one making her heart skip a beat. But she _will_ eventually fall for you. Because it was inevitable. And she will be doomed because she made the mistake of falling in love with someone who cannot love her back."

Eric - slack jawed, eyes losing focus – paced toward her. His stunned features regained poise as his lips curved into leer, eyes still wide with incredulity.

"You think I can't love?" he asked as he marched forward. "You think I don't love you?"

Sookie gritted her teeth in annoyance. Of course he would preen. Of fucking course he would take a stab at her monologue.

He let out a humorless chuckle. "Un-fucking-believable!"

"Damn you!" Sookie yelled in frustration, her hands balled into fists, her face red with anger.

"Yes, Sookie, damn me," he spat in a crisp tone. "I am fucking damned because I can't _not_ love you. I always have, right from that first night I saw you. You know how I knew?"

Sookie bit her lip as she choked back a sob.

"Because when you asked me to let you go, I realized I couldn't."

He was barely a foot away from her. He could see her chest heave and her eyes glisten with tears. He took another step toward her, itching to close their gap. "Can't you see, Sookie? Can't you see how much I love you? I'm so ridiculously in love with you nothing makes sense anymore."

"You see that's exactly what I mean," she snapped, poking at his chest. "You will say something insanely romantic that the girl has no choice but to tell you, 'I love you, Eric Northman,' and pray to God she's not making a colossal mistake."

His smirk spread into a charming smile. "Can I kiss the girl now?"

Sookie blinked letting the traitorous tears fall. "Yes. The girl said yes," she said as she bobbed her head before she clutched the front of his shirt and pulled him toward her. Eric wasted no time grabbing the back of her neck and capturing her parted lips.

This kiss was no different from the ones they had shared before. It was long, languid and sweet. But what separated it from the previous ones was the fact that this time they weren't terrified anymore. And they were certain there would be more after that.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters.**

**So? Is it enough or too much cheese?**

**Happy holidays, loves! Thank you for making the bitter winter a little warmer.**


	29. Chapter 29

"You're late," Nora hissed as she sat down opposite Eric in the Viking's private booth at one of his restaurants at the Luxor.

He was purposely late. He wanted to set the tone for this meeting. He wanted her to know that she was not the one calling the shots. Last night when he called her to set a meeting, she sounded confident, haughty even. As though his call was something she was expecting to receive. And it rubbed Eric the wrong way.

Eric took out a white envelope from the inner pocket of his dark blue suit. "You're drunk," he replied in a clinical tone.

"Well, what do you expect? I was by the bar for more than an hour because they didn't want to give me a table until you arrive," Nora slurred, eyeing him with a contradicting mix of contempt and longing. Her perfectly manicured nails flicking against the red table mantle as though itching to reach out to the Viking.

Eric waved at the maitre d' waiting patiently at the corner.

"Are you ready to order, Mr. Northman?" the headwaiter asked as he dipped his head toward the Viking.

"Not yet, Charles. But I'd like you to get her two shots of espresso. I need her sober for this. I don't do business with a drunkard," Eric replied without sparing Nora a glance. He would have seen her grimace at his words but knew better not to talk back to the Viking in public.

When the headwaiter left, Nora leaned her rigid back to the chair, smoothing the back of her messy chignon. Her lips pressed together in a delicious pout, her eyes never leaving the Viking, who was typing at his mobile phone, legs crossed in an elegant manner.

"So… are you done slumming it with the cook?" she asked after a while.

Eric's lips thinned before he looked up and met her probing gaze with eyes colder than the North Pole itself. Nora fought a shiver, feeling a cold finger on her back. For a moment she had forgotten what kind of devil Eric Northman could be. And now, an arms-length away from him, the Viking was reminding her how easily he could render her mute with a stare.

The stagnant silence was broken when the maitre d' came back with a cup of aromatic dark coffee and placed it in front of Nora. He asked Eric if there were anything else and the Viking casually shook his head and dismissed him.

Nora eagerly reached for her coffee, anything to keep her trembling hands busy, and raised it to her lips with as much sophistication she could project under the watchful glare of the Viking. He gave her enough time to gather herself and the high-strung brunette downed all the contents of the miniscule cup in one gulp like a commoner rather than one of the glitterati she claimed to be.

The brunette put her teacup down and straightened her back. It was her night, she had told herself over and over. Eric would return to her eventually, she was only surprised that it took him a long time to do so.

"Shall we order?" she asked, composing herself in a futile attempt to gain the upperhand.

"I have somewhere I need to be, so let's cut the bull, shall we?" Eric drawled, pocketing his cellphone and placing both hands on the table, facedown.

"You just got here!" Nora whined between gritted teeth.

"I'm here with a proposition," he began, shrugging off Nora's childish wail. He slid the white envelope lying in front of him toward Nora. "This is a one-way ticket back to London. It leaves in an hour, which gives you enough time to go to McCarran and get your ass out of Vegas. You will never set foot in American soil again much less in this town. This is _my_ town, if you try to come back here, as I'm sure you will, I will be two steps in front of you. Which brings me to option number two…" He leaned his head forward so Nora would not miss a single word.

"Do you still remember the Red Cavern?" he asked in a melodious tone, before his lips broke into a smirk. "Of course you do."

He could vividly remember all the times she had asked Eric to bring her to the Cavern and the demented way she had cheered for the Dom whenever they watched inside the Red Room. It had gotten worse when Nora found out Pam was a former Dom and ever since then she had never missed a chance to taunt Eric's second about Pam's former life, much to the Viking's dismay.

Nora's eyes widened in horror as it dawned on her what Eric was hinting at.

"I heard they have an opening for a new Sub. I'm sure you'll fit right in," he said confirming her suspicion. "And you will be a submissive – catering to every shameful and revolting wishes of the Doms you loved so much – for the rest of your life," he drawled in a smooth malevolent voice. "I will make sure of that, Nora. No one – not even dear ol' Russell – can bail you out of that shithole. But you know that already."

Nora pressed her lips together in a thin line. Gone was her sultry pout. She shot daggers at the Viking then at the envelope, as though willing it to burn into ashes before she turned her spiteful gaze back at her companion.

"You can't bully me, Eric."

"Bullies play with pranks and I assure you, Nora, _this_ is no prank."

"Even if you get rid of me, it will never be over. This is one game you're bound to lose, Eric," she spat with so much venom. "Russell wants _her_."

A dark shadow passed Eric's blue eyes but it was too quick for Nora's misted vision to see. "The question is, Nora, who do you think wants her more?"

He never waited for a response when he stood up from his chair and started clasping the button of his dinner jacket. "Because of our history together, I strongly suggest you take my first offer." He flicked his index finger in the air and not a minute later Pam strutted in with a wolfish grin.

"Pam will drive you. That flashy car you almost hit _her_ with, it's being totaled as we speak. If I were you I'd fly out of here while I still can. Because if there's one thing Russell loves as much as his money, it's his car collection," Eric said before he took Nora's branded clutch off the table and started rummaging through her belongings. He found her mobile phone and pocketed it without preamble. He put the purse back on the table and turned his mocking gaze back to the gaping brunette. "Be nice to Pam. If it were up to her, you'd be halfway to the Cavern by now. Don't give her a reason."

Pam's grin spread even wider as she sat to the chair vacated by the Viking. "They're gonna _love_ you there, bitch, and I'm gonna enjoy watching you scream for help that will never come. In fact, I'd even pay for the first show."

"You're doing all these because of that whore?" Nora snarled her face contorting into an ugly grimace.

Eric's hand fisted before it pounded on the table, knocking over the miniature cup and saucer. Some of the patrons in the tables around them threw cautious glances their way as Eric leaned over to Nora. "Call her a whore one more time and my first offer is off the table," he threatened in a low voice.

Pam, who seemed unperturbed by the Viking's sudden loss of control, leaned languidly back in her chair, staring with taunting eyes at the nervous brunette. "Come on, Nora, make my day and say the word. I dare you."

Nora hurled an articulate line of profanities at Pam before she rushed out of her chair to follow Eric who was already making his way out of the restaurant with long purposeful strides.

She almost tripped over her high heels as she jogged toward the Viking. She was panting for breath when she managed to catch up to him at the lobby. She grabbed his arm and with all her fragile strength, whisked him to face her, eliciting furtive glances from the other diners who were making their way inside the restaurant.

She knew it was pointless to argue with him, much less negotiate with his proposal. She only had one question that she feared she already knew the answer. "Do you love her?"

Eric didn't reply as he met her pleading gaze. He didn't need to utter a word. His silence spoke volumes. The way his eyes softened told her everything. He never had that look before, not when he was with her, not even when he was making love to her.

No.

It wasn't making love. As spectacular as they were in bed, Eric never made love to her. They fucked. Like champions. Like primal creatures guided by nothing but lust.

He yanked his arm to get her hands off him before he strolled out without looking back. Nora's hand fell to her side as she watched him walk away. She didn't realize she was crying until Pam took her elbow with gruff force and whirled her around to face the reporter Alicia and the very same photographer who had taken Nora and Sookie's photos the other day.

'_Sodding cunt.'_

"Smile for the camera, Nora. I'll send you a copy of tomorrow's society page in London… or the Cavern. Your choice."

Nora didn't even try to cover her face when the bright flashing lights hit her eyes. She had no more strength to fight a losing battle. She could only hope Russell would be able to avenge her.

* * *

**E/S **

'_Russell wants her.'_

Nora's words rang over and over like a broken record in his head. It had been a couple of hours since he had returned to the North. He wanted to go and check up on Sookie in the control room but he didn't like her to see him distraught. Unhinged.

He took out Nora's phone and started scrolling through her call register and text messages. Just as he had expected there were a number of calls made to Miami and Macau. She was smart enough not to put any names in her contacts list, but she was still careless as shit as to not erase the numbers completely. Amateur.

The private investigator Eric had hired to follow Nora when he got wind that she was back in Las Vegas was very efficient. He managed to give Eric information as to who was backing her up and her expensive way of living.

Eric should have known Nora would run straight to Russell when he turned her down.

'_Ungrateful bitch.'_

He made a short call to Muscat making sure everything was going according to plan regarding Felipe, before he sank back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

'_Russell wants her.' _There was the scornful voice again and he despised how easily it could unnerve him.

'_She's mine. Mine. I want her more!'_

His dark musing was interrupted by the knocks on his door. He jumped off his chair and dashed to open the door. All his brooding thoughts were forgotten as soon as his gaze landed on _her_. Everything's right in the world again, he thought and almost whacked his head for being such a sap. When did he become so emotionally unstable?

"You didn't really need to knock, you know?" he said fighting a smile that was itching to break across his face.

God, she looked priceless in that floral halter dress under a sheer black cardigan. He wondered how she seemed to project that much innocence in almost everything she wore. He stopped the urge to blurt out something ridiculously plebeian like 'you're so beautiful,' because he knew it would only make her cringe and roll her eyes. She was not a fan of flattery. Those were empty words. She deserved more.

She beamed at him and he swore that single gesture could make him come in his pants. "I'm only givin' you enough time to hide your girls under the table."

"Girls?" he asked mischief evident in his eyes. "I haven't done a three-way in years."

Sookie threw him a dirty look before she pushed past him and glided inside his office. "That's too much information."

"Hey, you're the one who said girls."

"Because I keep forgetting what a horndog you are."

"Then let me remind you…" he whispered, moving behind her, snaking his arms around her middle. He brushed her loose braid over her shoulder before he buried his nose in the nape of her neck. "You smell so damn delicious." The throbbing erection in his pants pressed against her back and ached to be buried inside her.

His warm breath against her skin made her shudder. He loved making her shudder. He loved the way she responded to the mildest of touch. He hooked his fingers in the neckline of her cardigan and pulled it off her before he let it drop to the floor.

Her breath hitched when the cool air hit her bare back. "You're just…" she rasped before she swallowed thickly, "… hungry," she finished.

"I am. And I'm going to enjoy having you." He kissed the back of her neck before he pulled back to untie the string that was holding her dress together. Sookie gasped when she felt his palm cup her breasts over her strapless bra before they slithered to her back to unzip her. The soft fabric slid down and pooled at her feet.

Eric knelt on the carpeted floor as he trailed kisses on her back, relishing the way her skin prickled against his lips.

"Eric…" she said huskily. "I'm almost naked and you're still fully dressed."

He smiled against her back before he slowly turned her around to face him. His face dangerously close to her heaving chest. "Didn't you know it's not proper etiquette to eat naked?"

He saw her jaw twitch as though aching to say something witty or sarcastic but no words came out of her mouth when he unlatched her bra and flung it across the room. He started flicking his tongue on one of her peaks, eliciting a sharp gasp from the Southerner, while his other hand gently massaged the other.

His free hand grazed her bare thigh, making its way between her thighs. He felt her leg stiffen when his finger stroke the moist flesh under the cotton fabric of her underwear. His mouth left her perky nipple as he began leaving a burning path of kisses down to her navel.

He hooked his thumb into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down to her feet. He was mildly surprised when she offered no resistance and stepped out of her impending garment. He looked up and saw her staring at him with hooded eyes, her lips parted in anticipation.

He couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face before he stood up and captured her mouth and sank his tongue deep. She tasted sweet, like cherries and chocolate. He could kiss her all night if he didn't have other plans in mind.

He released her mouth and in one fell swoop carried her in his arms bridal style and sat her on his lap behind his desk. His manhood that was pulsing against his pants was becoming more insistent. He latched his mouth on hers again, this time it was rougher, more demanding. She had to draw back to gasp for air but Eric was relentless as he fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her lips back to his.

'_I want you more,'_ he chanted in his head as his tongue speared into her mouth. _'He can't have you. No one can.'_

It was like all his pent up anger came back like wildfire, burning him from the inside.

"Eric…" she gasped when she broke their kiss again.

With one arm he swiped the closed laptop off his desk along with all the papers strewn beside it. Sookie yelped in protest but he swallowed the objections she wanted to hurl at him as he kissed, more like devoured, her mouth, feverishly and hoisted her up the thick mahogany.

He pulled his face back, cupping her cheek with one hand. "I want you so much," he said in a throaty voice before he bit the soft skin of her ear. He felt her tremble as she took a sharp breath before gently pushed her down to lie on the hard wood. His hands trailed down her body, pausing at every curve of her nakedness, before he sat back in his chair and slung her legs over his shoulders.

Sookie propped herself up with her elbows, following Eric's movements. Eric planted an open-mouthed kiss on the side of her thigh and she jerked her head back from the tingling sensation.

"Look at me," Eric ordered and Sookie reluctantly obliged. Her eyes fluttering close every time Eric's lips came dangerously close to her mound.

He was teasing her and it warranted him his desired response as Sookie groaned and squirmed against the polished wood. "Please …" she begged.

That was all he needed to hear as Eric buried his face between her thighs and used his skillful mouth, flicking her with quick then languid strokes. Sookie was a boneless mess under his ministration. He felt a sudden surge of pride when her hips bucked and jerked. He heard the muffled moan she made when she came and he felt her spasm against his face.

With her elbows still perched on the edge of the desk barely holding her up, she watched him strip in a painstakingly slow manner. He saw her grit her teeth like she was resisting the urge to scream at him to hurry the fuck up. His lips tugged slightly at the corner. He knew the love and hate thing Sookie had for his lopsided smirk and when her eyes darkened and she darted her tongue to lick her lips, he knew it was mission accomplished.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" she asked in exasperation when his smirk became more pronounced.

He kicked off his shoes and pushed down his dark slacks, along with his boxers. He took a foil packet from the bottom drawer and he almost didn't see the way Sookie bit her lip with a pained look on her face. She must have thought it was customary for him to have sex with stray sluts in his office when the truth was she was the only girl he ever contemplated fucking there. He wanted to appease her but he thought it would be better to show than tell.

He bent to catch her bruised lips, nipping at her bottom lip, before he whispered, "I love everything about you."

"Prove it," she challenged her hand trailing over his rippled stomach.

She always said that Eric was the one with all the words when she was that could make or break him with her bon mot. She was a spitfire. She was _his_ spitfire. He gripped her ankles, harder than he was supposed to, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. With a swift stroke he buried himself to the hilt inside her.

She was slick and inviting and tight around him and fuck, it was testing his stamina. He thought maybe he should cut back from drinking scotch. And maybe he could add another half hour in the treadmill next time he was in the gym.

'_Fuck it, Northman, you're in heaven and you're thinking of the fucking treadmill!'_

Maybe it was his mind's way to fend off his orgasm because Sookie's torturous moans and gasps were surely not helping. He felt her clench around him and he gritted his teeth so as not to come with her. He wanted to prolong this. As long as he could. Because as long as he was inside her, he knew no one could take her from him.

He lifted her off the desk without pulling out of her and carried her toward the couch. She was straddling him, moving up and down, and the sly minx was back on top, dictating the tempo. Urging him to let go. But he wouldn't.

He tackled her and laid her down on her back in the upholstered sofa. He kissed her savagely and sucked at the skin below her neck, brandishing her. Sookie was lost in a lustful stupor that she didn't realize what Eric was doing. He knew she would gripe about the hickey later, but he didn't care. She could throw a fit, that would put Pam's hissy ones to shame and he knew it was still worth it.

But in the end, she still won. At her third climax she dragged him with her. Eric came with a grunt, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt Sookie's nails digging in the skin of his back. Her fingers moved up to the back of his head and weaved her fingers through his hair. She was still panting heavily against him when she said in a hoarse voice, "I love you. You know that, right?"

He pulled back to look at her. To see if she were mocking him and was utterly relieved when he saw that she wasn't.

"Remind me again in a few minutes," he said, his eyebrows waggling seductively.

Sookie's gusty laugh filled the room and it warmed him like a fur blanket. If he could make her laugh like that then he would gladly mash up a Nike and an Adidas and he would _just do it_, because _impossible was nothing_. He rolled on his back and pulled her on top of him.

'_She's mine. I want her more,'_ he echoed his previous thoughts. Russell could pull all the tricks known in the book and she would still be Eric's. Nothing would change that. At that moment he came to a decision. He was done hiding her. Russell had already thrown the gauntlet. It was time for Eric to pick it up and suit up.

If Russell wanted her, then he could come and get her. Eric would like to see him try.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric.**

**I'm updating my wp page and will include the banners and dream cast Lei Vasquez so generously made for this fic. I'll post them sooner along with the next chapter. But if you can't wait to see them then visit lei's new site at fantasybanners . wordpress . com **

**Love, love, love! Happy 2013!**


	30. Chapter 30

"Is this really necessary, Eric," Sookie whined for the umpteenth time since the Viking had fetched her from the North's control room. He took her by surprise when he wrapped a blindfold over her eyes as soon as she was strapped inside his silver Land Rover. Naturally, her first instinct was to gripe but Eric had used his beguiling tone with her when he said, "humor me."

Eric stole a sideway glance at his cantankerous passenger and shook his head in amusement. He saw her hand make its way to her blinders and quickly swatted it down with a soft slap.

"Keep still and shut up," he shushed her in what he hoped was his authoritative tone but the mirth laced in his voice betrayed him.

"I hate surprises," she grumbled, crossing her arms against her chest, chin jutting out rather petulantly.

"And I'm sure you'll hate my surprise even more. But as your reluctant boyfriend I am socially obliged to infuriate you at all times."

Ever since that fateful night when they had both accepted how stupidly and irreversibly intoxicated they were with each other, their disaster of a relationship finally reached a level of tranquility that was both disarming and alarming.

The past few days had turned into a vibrant blur. Eric would drop by her apartment armed with his go-bag that contained his electric toothbrush and change of clothes. A few varieties of plaid shirts and stone-washed jeans - all criminally expensive, of course – were strewn among Sookie's clothes in her small closet. Tailored suits were found hanging at the back of Sookie's bedroom door and she would pick his tie among the selection he had brought with him before they leave for Fiordilatte the next morning.

He would drop her off in the restaurant and she would try to evade Holly - the newly appointed head chef - and her perpetual prying, to no avail.

Sometimes they would sneak out - in Sam's hybrid car- and go for a ride at the Strip. There were instances when he almost ran the red light because he was so busy staring at her and she would try to hide her amusement when he would cuss under his breath and pretend that he wasn't caught off-guard.

They would often stop at drive-throughs and just hang out beside McCarran airport eating greasy junk. They would sit inside the car, seats reclined, and would try to guess the itineraries of the aircraft that were swooshing above them.

Eric would tell her of all the places that he would like to take her and she would fight the urge to simper and sigh like a depraved school girl. She hadn't realized how effortlessly enthralling he could be until he opened his mouth and started enumerating unforgettable – and revoltingly forgettable - places he had been into.

She would listen in rapt silence, drinking in his every word and the fluctuating tenor of his voice. Sometimes he would get so eager and his hands would move animatedly in front of him and his Swedish lilt would become more pronounced.

She would stare at his blue eyes and would get lost in their depth as they danced and glimmered from the soft light of the lamp posts.

'_Holy shit!'_

When she had caught herself using the words enthrall and twinkle to describe him and his arbitrary attributes that was when she realized what a lost cause she was.

She was admittedly smitten, hell, who was she bullshitting, she was downright in love with him and she hadn't even gotten to his delectable – and definitely Viking-sized - quality yet.

He continued to amaze her as he revealed his long love affair with art - from sculptures to paintings to literary works. He would tell her his favorite books and his fascination with Manet and Degas.

"What? Did you think I was just drawing stick figures when Marco and I are disguising ourselves as poor artisans in Florence? I know I'm pretty but give my other skill some credit, too," was his sly retort when Sookie seemed unconvinced.

Sookie also surprised him when she started comparing the Viking with Edouard Manet using what little knowledge she had about the revolutionary painter who, like Eric, was from a bourgeoisie family. "I read. A lot," she replied when his eyebrows shot up in his forehead. "It's how I compensate for my lack of education."

In return, Sookie would provide him snippets of her childhood and how she and Jason would turn almost everything into a wager. It didn't matter if it were over who would do the dishes or who would talk to the irate managers when they failed to pay their month's due, the Stackhouse siblings would still try to outclass each other with a vehemence that could rival the singers in American Idol.

They weren't all funny stories though. There were also the ones that would make Sookie pause midway to strangle a sob.

Like the time when she had told him about her mother.

How her parents had fought almost every day because Corbett wasn't bringing home enough money. How her mother would blame her father for everything that had gone wrong in their lives.

Michelle Stackhouse was apparently from an affluent family in Dallas. She was a rebellious teenager who thought her devotion to Corbett was enough when she had turned her back on her family who never hid their disapproval toward the farmer's son. But when Corbett was laid off from his first job as clerk in the Sheriff's office that was when things went from sweet to sour.

Corbett only finished high school because Adele could not afford to send him to college when his father, Earl, died after he tried to fend off cattle robbers at the Stackhouse farm. His measly education did not bode well for him and he was compelled to work as a construction worker for the Herveaux's.

Then one stormy night Corbett came home, bringing forth his minimum wage. He must have been so eager to come home to a toasty house because he was in such haste he had forgotten to take off his wet, muddy boots at the door.

It must have been the wet boots that tracked mud on the tiled floor. It must have been the sight of another paycheck that was less than what her parents in Dallas would pay their maids. Or it must have been Jason and Sookie's quibbling over collard greens.

It could be one of those reasons or it could be all three. Or maybe she was just tired of being disappointed.

But that night something in Michelle snapped. It was the angriest she had been as she screamed at Corbett until her voice was hoarse before she packed up her bags, jumped inside their ratty Volvo – a pity gift from her stuck-up parents – and sped off like a bat out of hell.

"She was in such a hurry to leave us that she didn't see the truck coming at her and pushed the car over the bridge," Sookie said in the most neutral voice she could muster before she chuckled bitterly. "That was why I was so mad at you that night at the North. I felt like I was in the exact position as my Dad and you were the asshole that he couldn't stand up to. The way he couldn't stand up to my Mom, or my Grandparents who blamed him for her death."

There were other tragic stories and Eric would watch in quiet desperation as her mask of apathy crumbled before his eyes. She was as defenseless as him. And it wasn't the kind of fragility he had wanted to see from her.

He wanted to appease her and tell her those memories were just that, memories. That everything would be alright from here on out. But he knew that would be a lie. She was too pragmatic for that, so was he. They both knew there would still be Russell, Madden and Compton, biding their time patiently.

She had been relieved when Eric told her about Nora and the proposition he had given her. Sookie would be a hypocrite if she would say that she didn't feel a tinge of disappointment when Pam had informed them that Nora had decided to leave Vegas than work for Madame Callisto. If that would make her a bad person then so be it – Nora, with all her antics, made Selah look like a saint.

Every time Sookie's tears would threaten to fall he would pull her flush against him and do the only thing he could to shut her up: kiss her. Kiss her until she could no longer remember what she was talking about.

She would click her tongue and huff indignantly and call his kisses rude interruptions but Eric would contradict her and call them necessary parentheses.

He didn't want to tell her how her tears were his kryptonite. They could unhinge him in a second and render him completely useless.

But his discomfiture did not escape Sookie's keen eyes. She would notice the slight shift in his posture and the tightening of his jaw and she would wipe her tears furiously and shrug.

"This is what I get for slicing too much onions," would be her lame excuse all the time even though she knew she was fooling no one. She was only glad Eric was kind enough to indulge her.

Most of the time, anyway.

There was this one time when he had caved. He reached out to her, trying to console her, but she shook him off with a sheepish grin. "Don't worry 'bout me. I think my luck's turning around. The big guy up there (she cocked her head to the starless sky) is already making it up to me. For starters, He gave me a Viking in a pretty, pretty bow."

The wistful smile he had given her was the warmest he had seen on him. And the kiss they shared was even warmer.

Those times were among the halcyon days.

There were also nights when they would just stay in her apartment and explore each other's bodies like a treasure hunter would delve into a secret cave. Sookie would whisper his name over and over again and Eric would bask in the softness of her voice. His mediocre name never sounded so good in her sweet Southern drawl.

And Eric's legendary stamina had been subjected to quite an ordeal. If in the past he could go on all night riding his partners into the brink of ecstasy, keeping them at the edge until he decided to push them over, with Sookie - his beautiful hurricane - it was different and unquestionably difficult. She had a way to make him relinquish every semblance of control he had over her and he would curse himself every time he would come undone much earlier than he had wanted.

Sookie would always find herself wishing she had better ventilation when Eric would show her what an insatiable beast he was. Heat and humidity aside, she couldn't really complain. He was _her_ beast, after all.

And what a beast he was. One minute he was worshipping her, memorizing every inch of her body - every curve and every scar - then he would morph into his primordial form, ruled by his baser instincts and would ravish her until she was soaking in sweat and in dire need of more oxygen.

She was certain that the relentless pounding of the headboard against the wall were loud enough to keep her neighbors from three floors down awake and undoubtedly infuriated. But no one was incensed enough to knock on her door and complain about the noise she and her big-shot boyfriend were making.

The Viking's anonymity was the worst kept secret among the tenants in her building. Eric would keep up with the charade, coming in stealthily at night with her and sneaking out like a ghost in the morning.

He was her deep, dark secret just as she was his.

Eric didn't want it to be that way though. He even tried to mend it.

One time, he had asked her to accompany him to one of his vapid galas and she had turned him down without batting an eyelash. She had argued that she had already reached her quota of pretentious dinners and parties. Besides without Marco as his scapegoat, who would keep her company, she had added with a touch of sarcasm. The Viking had given her the look that he was not buying her bullshit and, with much prodding, she finally addressed the white elephant in the room and took it by its tusks.

"I don't want to be known as the girl Eric Northman was dating. The girl who was living her Cinderella story. I'd rather be invisible than be in someone else's shadow. I know why you're doin' this and I appreciate it. I do. But if I hear one more person telling me I'm just the new flavor of the month or that I hit the jackpot in Vegas, I swear I'm gonna end up punching someone's nose," she explained, cupping his face with her small hands. "I already know I don't deserve you. I don't need anyone to rehash it for me." She had punctuated her argument with a wet and languid kiss and Eric could not bring himself to argue anymore. She could be so damn convincing sometimes, he thought after mentally giving himself the finger for being terribly whipped.

Sookie had gone a long way from the jaded and awkward girl he had locked lips with that first time in his car seemingly eons ago.

Their love making, like their kisses, had also leveled up. Sometimes it would be oh-so-slow and tormenting that Sookie would often bite her lip to stop herself from begging him to pick up the pace.

Other times it would be aggressive and hurried because they just couldn't spare another second. She would be hoisted against the wall, her dress up to her waist, her underwear lying somewhere on the floor. Eric would not bother stripping his pants all the way down, just low enough to get his manhood out and into her. She would leave a trail of wet, sloppy kisses along his jawline as he pillaged her like a Viking. She would be left with small bruises and a few hickeys, which were a real pain in the ass to hide from the spying eyes of her coworkers, especially Pam, whose teasing went from subtle to blunt.

She must not have been doing a good job hiding her markings because a few days later, Pam added several turtlenecks and longer A-line skirts in her wardrobe.

Then there would also be instances when they would be covert and playful. They would sneak inside a vacant room in the North or the Luxor using his card key that could open every room in any of his hotels. Eric would dash into her office in the control room while she was in the middle of her shift. He would give her 'the look' or she would drop a pen or they would simply pretend to have an argument until Pam would chisel in and tell them to take their fight somewhere else. That would be their cue as they stomp outside and rush into the nearest empty room they could find.

They still fought for real, of course. It was part of their package deal, after all. They would exchange caustic retorts over something heavy or mundane and they would realize how they were the antithesis of each other.

Eric would be his arrogant self and Sookie would flaunt her coarse and self-righteous armor but neither the Viking nor the Southerner threatened to storm out in the middle of a dispute anymore. There would only be uncomfortable pauses as they glared at each other. The charged silence would be jolted with puerile snorts and huffs, until they both calmed down and decided to agree to disagree.

There were also those times when Sookie would be too tired to go home and would ask Eric if she could just stay over in his suite and his face would light up like the North Star.

Like two nights ago, when he almost asked her to move in with him. The question he dared not ask her in the fear of bruising his fragile ego again.

* * *

_Sookie's head was resting on one of his outstretched arm as she traced small circles on his chest when he noticed how flushed her cheeks were. Her lips kiss-swollen, her hair tousled and sprawled against her shoulder cascading at the top of her bosoms. Her eyes drooping heavily as she tried to ward off sleep. _

_Eric had suddenly found himself in F. Scott Fitzgerald's shoes as he remembered a quote in one of his books (Tender Is The Night, Eric recalled eventually) where the male protagonist said he 'had never seen someone that actually did look like something blooming.' _

_"Sookie?"_

"_Hmmm?" Her eyes were fluttering as her head inched closer to his. _

_"You're so beautiful," he whispered. _

_She arched her brow at him in mock disdain. "Mr. Northman, why do you sound so surprised? Did you just realize I'm quite a catch?" she teased, trying to deflect her chagrin from the compliment that came out of the blue. _

_"No. It just took me this long to say it out loud," he quipped, the tip of his finger tracing the outline of her face. _

_"See, that's why you get all the girls. You always have the right words." _

_"Not always." _

_Sookie looked up, propping her chin on his chiseled torso. She kicked against the bedsheet pushing herself up as her lips found his. She planted a soft one on his mouth before she breathed, "I'm sorry. I've been such a bitch."_

_His head dipped lower, the tips of their noses grazing, a __mischievous __smirk playing on his lips. "I'm sorry I didn't get that first part. Can you say it again?" _

_Sookie rolled her eyes before she bit his lower lip then licked it after she released it. "I said…" she drawled." I'm sorry. If I had known you were so good in bed I would have jumped your bones when I saw you walk in that interrogation room."_

_His eyebrows wriggled lecherously. "You did jump me that night," he snapped, recalling their close contact in the questioning cell when she tripped over her chair and he caught her._

_Sookie narrowed her eyes at him before she poked him dramatically at the chest. "Oh riiight," she intoned, remembering the exact scenario. "And you were the one who acted all virginal on me."_

"_Virginal?"_

"_Like a nun in the convent."_

_A husky growl ripped out from deep down his chest before he tackled her, pinning her pliant body under him. "I'm going to make you regret you ever said that," he threatened, rolling his hips against her malleable form._

_Sookie repressed the delightful shiver crawling up her spine. "Less talking and more fucking, Mr. Northman," she said in a sexy as fuck voice that he knew would be the death of him soon. A giggle bubbled out of her throat and the sound went straight to Eric's manhood which sprung back to life, like an overeager slave ready to serve the blonde temptress in his bed._

* * *

Sookie's impatient voice snapped him back out of his revelry. "Can you at least tell me if we're still in Nevada? This can still be construed as kidnapping, you know."

Eric clucked his tongue before he reached out to tuck a stray hair that got caught in her blinder and pushed it to the side of her face. She wasn't expecting the contact and it made her involuntarily flinch in her seat.

"Are you always this jumpy? I'm not going to bite," he teased and prayed to whoever was listening that he wasn't setting himself up for an unimaginable fuck-up.

If everything blew up in his face, he would certainly blame Pam.

* * *

_They had been in his office going over the casinos turnovers when she started with her routine repartee. _

"_Are you always going to be like this?" Pam drawled when she handed him the black ledger she had tallied for him to look over._

"_Like what?" he asked, surveying the fiscal account inside, making mental calculations. _

"_Deliriously happy."_

_Eric disguised the smile that crept at the sides of his mouth with a snort. "Deliriously?"_

"_Have you taken a look in the mirror? You look like you have a clothes' hanger inside your mouth. You can't stop smiling. Honestly, Eric, it's starting to creep me out."_

_Eric shook his head dismissively but did not negate her. He was – for lack of a better term – deliriously happy. _

"_Do you know what the worst part is?" she asked, not really expecting a response as she continued with her light-hearted griping. "That little hick is as bad as you. If not worse. She now sings. Sings, Eric, not just hum but actually sing with words. Apparently, Sookie knows all of Taylor Swift's songs. Have you heard her sing? That girl cannot carry a fucking tune with a bucket and a lid on it. Sam's wearing headsets in the office now because of her." _

_Eric looked up from his ledger and Pam watched as his serious facade quivered before he fell into hysteria as he imagined his Southerner singing out of tune._

_Pam joined almost instantaneously. When their laughter tapered off, they fell into a comfortable silence with Pam wiping the side of her eyes for any mascara goop. _

"_So? Did you finally talk to her about moving in? You're practically living together, why not make it official?"_

"_I'm still waiting for the perfect timing. You know how volatile she is."_

_Pam put her own ledger down and placed both her hands on the table. She let out an audible sigh to get the Viking's attention and, without missing a beat, Eric looked up from the financial record he was perusing and arched an eyebrow as if to tell her to just spill what was on her mind._

"_If you're one hundred percent sure you want to live with her then why don't you channel you inner Corleone and give her an offer she can't refuse."_

"_Been there, done that. Didn't work."_

"_Maybe you went about it the wrong way. You could be real pain in the ass sometimes," she snapped, shaking off the frozen look he cast in her direction. "Sookie may be a lot of things. But she's still a girl, a Southern girl to boot. Do you think she'll be comfortable living in a lifeless suite? Southern girls like their kitchens, their gardens, their white picket fence. The whole nine fucking yards. If you want to sweep her off her feet, give her a home, not an empty room."_

* * *

Sookie felt the spasm of the motor whirring down to a halt. Then she heard the sound of metal latching on to another metal smoothly. She jerked forward in her seat. "Are we here?" she asked. "Can I take this off now? It's itchy."

He let out an amused sigh. "Patience isn't really one of you virtues, huh?" he asked with a tsk before he stretched out of the SUV and made his way to open her door.

He was a mildly surprised when she didn't make a move to take her blindfold off when he exited the car. He unbuckled her seatbelt and guided her out.

"Now?" she asked again, she could no longer hide the excitement in her voice that she was trying to mask as sheer impatience.

She felt his hand clutch the back of her neck then slowly dipped to the arch of her back. He led her outside to what she assumed was a garage. She heard the creak of the door at it closed behind them.

"If this is some kind of kinky dungeon, Eric…" she trailed as she felt the Viking move behind her, pressing her against him with his arms around her waist. He lowered his head and whispered a breathy, "now," before he buried his nose in her hair, wishing he could hush the loud thumping of the muscle in his chest.

Sookie couldn't pull the impending cloth from her eyes fast enough.

He counted silently in his head, as though he was waiting for a bomb to go off any second. He felt her take a sharp breath and hold it in as her eyes took in the surrounding.

They were in front of a huge manor that was hands down the biggest and most luxurious house Sookie had ever seen. She swallowed thickly, willing herself to blink to make sure she wasn't imagining it.

"Wow," she gasped under her breath.

Eric laughed behind her, pulling her tight against him. Good initial reaction, he thought gratefully.

"Is this yours?" she asked then shook her head. "Of course it is," she mumbled, answering her own query.

"Wow. Are you rich or something?" she asked, whisking her body around to face him, a coquettish glint in her eyes.

"Not as loaded as Tony Stark," he replied with a smirk.

Sookie pouted her lips, tilting her head up to nip at his chin. "Pam told you about that, huh?" she drawled, recalling the times she had compared Pam to Pepper Potts who was working for the notorious playboy billionaire cum super hero.

"She tells me everything," he said before he caught her teasing mouth with his.

Their kiss tapered off quickly as Eric loosened his grip around her. He entwined his fingers with hers and led her up the granite stone steps toward the illuminated patio and into the glass door.

The doors were unlocked as they glided inside. If she were amazed by the mansion's façade, nothing could have prepared her for the lavish interior that awaited them.

Cream marble floor accentuated with oak furnishing greeted her vision. It was tastefully decorated and it was evident it had been under meticulous care.

She ran her hands across the nearest mantle at the hallway leading to the spacious living room and reached for the elegant picture frame on top. It was a wedding photo of who she assumed were Eric's parents. A leaner, younger Godric (from what she remembered in the photos of him she had seen in the outdated magazine covers) was kissing a woman in an Audrey Hepburn-styled bridal dress. She radiated opulence and sophistication while Godric was a picture of quiet dignity and old money. They were royalty, Sookie thought, who suddenly became aware of her inadequacies.

She put the frame back in its place as she felt that wave of nausea that somehow she was intruding, a lowly pedestrian trespassing at a palace. She could feel Eric's eyes boring holes in her back and it made the hair on her back bristle.

She pulled herself together and, with all her acquired skills, arranged her features to remain buoyant. She picked the frame standing next to the wedding photo. She scanned the image with unblinking eyes before her shoulder shook and she burst with laughter.

It was, without a shred of doubt, Eric. He was probably six or seven years old when the picture was taken, she presumed. He had a dark coiffed wig over his head and was wearing a white jumpsuit with detailed bead work in red and gold. Her Viking was the King of Rock.

"Oh. My. Lord," she gasped, holding the frame close to her face. "I'm dating Elvis Presley!"

Eric tugged at the frame, yanking it out of her vise-like grip. "Give that back," he said huffily before he composed himself with his mask of indifference. He managed to grab the frame from Sookie before he stared at it. "I'll have you know, Elvis was – is – the epitome of cool in Vegas."

Sookie pressed her lips together and bit her inner cheek to stifle the giggle that was dying to erupt from her throat. She tried to snatch the frame back from Eric but the Viking was already putting it back atop the mantle. She grabbed his wrist to whisk him back to her while her free hand went to his nape before she cupped his face.

"You're preachin' to the choir, buddy. I'm from the South, remember? We live and breathe Elvis," she said before she kissed the scowl off him.

He chuckled in her mouth and the vibration made Sookie's toes tingle.

Their lips broke contact as he laid his temple against hers. "Why did you bring me here, Eric?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and Sookie was reminded of the boy in Karate Kid who had to be in a perfect mental state before he broke the brick. She held her breath as she waited for him to speak. She felt her hands sweat and she wished Eric would not be disgusted by the clamminess of her palms around his neck.

He took another audible breath before he opened his eyes and met her probing gaze. It was like he was going to tell her he had a terminal disease and it was making Sookie more edgy than she already was.

"This house," he began. "Is the first property my father bought in Nevada. This is where my parents lived. That part there," he drew his face from her and pointed at the wooden railing of the winding staircase. "That's where I hit my head when I was trying to run from the au pair who was forcing me to take a bath. There," he aimed his index finger in the direction of the living room. Sookie pivoted to look at the place he was showing her. At the end of the hallway was a lighted fireplace. "That's where I singed this eyebrows," he touched his left brow, and at closer inspection, she could see there was a faint welt under his dark blonde brows. "I wanted to know how close I could get to the fire without burning. What a fucking brilliant idea that was."

Sookie made a sound that was a cross between a huff and a snort as she tried not to laugh at his face. "_You_? A troublemaker when you were a kid?" She gasped. "Shocking!"

Eric gave her the stink eye that was the equivalent of the finger if she didn't happen to be Sookie Stackhouse. He took both her hands and kissed her palms before he continued. "This house is the only home I've known, Sookie. No one - not even Pam - had been here because I don't come here anymore. It reminds me of how alone I am."

He let his short soliloquy hung in the air, giving the words time to sink in. There was a kind of serenity in the way he had spoken and Sookie found herself speechless. She was quite certain this was not a topic he would speak freely of, mostly because he didn't want others to view his solitude as weakness. But not her. She understood how ironically suffocating it was to be alone.

She held his gaze intently. She didn't dare blink. She wanted to swallow air but fought the impulse to do so. Afraid she would ruin the moment. Even the crickets seemed to make themselves scarce, or maybe they were like her, holding on to his every word. There was an otherworldly silence in the room that she didn't want to break. Hell, even if she felt like sneezing at that exact moment, she would gladly sneeze through her eyes.

Eric gulped as he moved his huge hands around her neck, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.

"I'm upping the ante, Sookie. I brought you here because I want you to help me make this place feel like home again," he spoke softly, prodding, almost pleading. "What do you say?"

Sookie let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. She tangled her arms around his middle, pressing herself flush against him. "Dammit! How can I say no if you put like that?" she said haltingly, willing the tears that reamed her eyes not to fall.

"Then don't say no."

Sookie caught his lower lip and nipped it gently. Then she pulled back and met his eyes again. "One thing first," she said huskily. "Two actually. Firstly, you have housekeeping, right? Because I'm gonna need help cleaning all the rooms in this big ass house."

Eric smiled before he nodded. "The only manual labor you'll do is in the bedroom with me."

A delicious shiver coursed through her from her toes to her cheeks, making her blush in anticipation. "Glad we're on the same page."

The Viking chortled before he ground his hips against her to assure her that their thoughts were really in sync. Sookie slapped him at the chest, wishing the burning of her cheeks would not give away her own lascivious ideas.

"Secondly?" Eric asked, itching to seal the deal.

"Do you have a bigger Elvis costume lying around here somewhere? I'd love to get acquainted with the King." She bit her lip as her fingers danced against the fabric of his shirt, tracing the taut muscle underneath.

The Viking was quick to follow her train of thought, raising his brows in a seductive, Eric-ish way before he nodded. "I'll even throw in the wig, if that's what rocks your boat," he replied with a toothy grin. "But if you breathe a word of it back at the North, I'll deny it."

"Then what are we waitin' for? Go and suit up, Cowboy, and let's get this show on the road," she ordered, clapping her hands.

"Elvis can wait. I'm thinking we break in the couch first," he said, his lips twisting to a lopsided smirk.

"It'll be a shame to break our tradition," she agreed, batting her thick lashes too innocently.

"Exactly."

Sookie giggled and squealed when Eric scooped her up and carried her to the enormous sofa. She thought if they had an audience who could hear the eye-twitching fangirlish sounds she were making, they would all be wincing and rolling their eyes at her right now.

But she couldn't bring herself to care. She was home after all.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own the characters. **

**Now that we've addressed the small issues, we can go on with the plot. Felipe's up next. I've posted this same chapter in wordpress with the photos of the house. **

**Thank you all so much for your thoughts. Love, love, love, my sweets!**


	31. Chapter 31

"Miss Stackhouse?" the beautiful redhead with the blinding smile chirped behind Sookie, making her jump a little.

"That's me. Pam said she'd call to let you know I'm comin'?" Sookie asked, looking up from her cellphone.

She was at the Ermenegildo Zegna boutique down at the Boulevard to pick up Eric's tuxedo for the annual Founder's Ball the following night.

It was Sookie's idea to do the menial errand. It was scheduled to be delivered to the North but she asked Pam to hold it off so she could do it herself.

The task was so thoughtful and woefully domestic and decidedly unlike Sookie. Eric found that could probably her way of taking care of him. And he liked it.

"Mr. Northman's suit will be ready in a minute. My assistant is just wrapping it," the lady who could moonlight as a toothpaste commercial model with her perpetual smile said.

"No problem. Take your time," Sookie replied.

She was really in no hurry. She just finished her lunch shift at the restaurant and she didn't need to work at the North tonight. Sam, her partner in crime, took the night off to visit his brother in Carson City.

Operation Raven, the name they all agreed on to call the Edgington takedown, was already ironed out. (And when they said 'they' it really meant Eric.)

The only thing they needed to do was wait for the perfect timing. Tonight was going to be vital because it would be the first and probably the only time Sookie would meet Felipe De Castro.

The Spaniard had been in town for a couple of days now but Eric deemed it best not to meet with Felipe until the night Victor Madden would return to Las Vegas.

Sookie had been into a few clandestine meetings with Big Tony in his suburban residence where the Southerner had been a silent observer. During the first night, she could feel Tony's apprehension toward her. Oftentimes Tony would forget about the quiet Southerner and would start throwing names and monikers – which Sookie assumed were codes for his shady flunkies and associates – for Eric's consideration. But the second he realized Sookie was among the tightly knitted group, the Italian Mafioso would clam up.

It wasn't until the third meeting that Sookie felt more welcome with the Goodfellas. She knew Eric must have said something to the Italian Mafioso but she didn't bother to ask the Viking. It must be incredibly endearing and affectionate but knowing Eric, who would gladly chew his own hand than tell her in verbatim what he told Tony about her, she thought it would be best to just use her imagination.

A slight commotion inside the dressing rooms pulled Sookie out of her musings. She could hear a man yelling something in French and not a minute later the redhead at the front desk scurried to attend to it.

Sookie immediately felt sorry for the staff. She could imagine how hard it could be to work in such an environment where she would be forced to attend to irate customers – very rich and very snob patrons at that.

The shouting finally subsided and the redhead, who was no longer sporting a megawatt grin, emerged teary-eyed from the changing area. She mumbled a soft apology to Sookie before she fled through the front door.

The Southerner debated running after the redhead but decided to leave the employee alone and give her a much-needed space. A few minutes went by and another employee came out of the dressing room, obviously disgruntled.

"I apologize for the wait, ma'am. There has been a snafu with the steaming service…"

Sookie held up her hand and offered the lady a reassuring smile. "No worries. I'll wait. Is there anything I can do to help?"

The employee let out a breath, relief coloring her face. "Actually, Mr. Northman's suit is hanging inside the dressing room," she said softly while craning her neck toward the front door.

Sookie realized the woman must have been worried about her coworker. "Know what. I can go and get it myself. You should check up on your friend," Sookie hushed, smiling sweetly at the staff.

The employee darted a glance at the dressing room then back at the door before flashing Sookie an apologetic but grateful nod.

"Mr. Northman's suit is inside the third dressing room. It has a name tag. Please feel free to check it first. Thank you, ma'am," she said hurriedly before scampering outside.

It was fairly easy to retrieve the suit, mainly because it was the only thing inside the dressing room that was the size of her old apartment. She checked the name to make sure it was Eric's before she gave it a quick scan. She was on her way out of the corridor where the private dressing rooms were located when door number one burst open and a man in black and white suit came out without so much as a warning.

Sookie was in a big hurry to get out that she inadvertently slammed into the man that sent her teetering backward. She almost landed flat on her bottom if he didn't catch her wrist and pulled her against him.

Sookie let out a small yelp when she felt his other arm snake around her middle. She stepped backward to steady her footing. When she was certain that she was no longer wobbling, she pulled her wrist out of his grip and deliberately wriggled out of his grasp.

The man, who was at least six-foot tall, was staring at her intently with his light blue eyes. His lips pressed together and his brow drawn into a knot.

"Apparently you're not only incompetent but also clumsy," he drawled in his deep velvety voice. He straightened his dinner jacket as his eyes raked over Sookie's form, a scowl forming at the side of his lips.

Sookie took a moment to digest what the man had just uttered. Granted that Sookie's hastened steps were mainly at fault for the collision, but Mr. Windbag wasn't completely blameless.

If Sookie were to guess, he was probably the same snippy Richie Rich who was yelling like a PMS-ing woman earlier.

She didn't like the supercilious manner he was sizing her up and decided to give him a dose of his own medicine. She took a couple of steps back and placed hand on her hip while her other hand gripped Eric's probably rumpled suit.

She looked him up and down while schooling her face to remain blank.

The man's scowl was slowly turning into an indulgent smirk as he watched Sookie appraise his appearance. He ran the palm of his hand through his short and messy brown hair. "I don't usually like being eye-fucked, but in your case, I'll allow it," he crooned, his thumb dragging over the three-day stubble on his chin. "Like what you see?"

'_There can really be no shortage of pigs in this town.'_

Sookie folded the garment bag over her arm before she marched forward until she was only a foot away from him. "Get over yourself," she muttered haughtily.

His lips parted in surprise and Sookie took that as her opportunity to run before he decided to unleash his loose tongue on her. She pushed past him, clutching Eric's suit tightly against her chest. She was approaching the end of the hallway leading to the main shop when she looked back.

"Oh and your fly's open."

* * *

**E/S **

Sookie was on her way toward the parking lot of the North to meet Eric when Claudine, the concierge, went up to her cradling a bouquet of white lilies.

"Miss Stackhouse!" Claudine called out as she jogged toward the Southerner. She caught up to Sookie just as she was about to open the passenger door. "This came in for you."

Sookie uttered a simple thank you at the gorgeous brunette before she took the bouquet. The concierge beamed at Sookie before she dashed back to the elevator.

"I told you I don't like flowers," Sookie muttered petulantly when she settled herself inside the black SUV. They were on their way to Big Tony's hideout where they would meet with Felipe De Castro.

Eric stared at Sookie then at the flowers with an unreadable expression. "It's not from me," was his curt reply before he snatched the card attached to bouquet.

'_Thank you for sparing me the shame of walking around with my fly open. –Michael'_

"Who's Michael?" he demanded, his voice devoid of any mirth. "Is there something you're not telling me Sookie?"

Sookie seized the card and read it quickly. A snort was her only response and it infuriated the Viking even more.

"Who's Michael, Sookie? And what the fuck are you doing with him with his fly open?" he gritted.

Sookie looked up from the card to meet Eric's glare. "He's probably the asshole who I slammed into when I was picking up your suit."

"Slammed into?" he asked with his lips barely moving. And Sookie found it was a scary thing to witness.

"Literally." She huffed, shoving the beautiful bouquet at the backseat. "I was on my way out of the dressing room when he came out of nowhere and collided with me."

Eric yanked the card from Sookie before he crumpled it and tossed it out of the window. "Can't leave you for one second without you picking up random guys," he grumbled, turning his gaze at the dashboard before he released the handbrake.

Sookie's hand flew to Eric's wrist gripping him like a vise. "Excuse me?" she asked incredulously.

"You heard me," Eric snapped.

"No. I'm sorry. I must not have heard you right, because it sounded like you were calling me a slut," Sookie spat, lifting her brow challengingly.

Eric pulled the handbrake back up before he pivoted to face her. "Why didn't you tell me about him?"

Sookie groaned loudly. "Because there's nothing to tell, Eric. He was a smug bastard who was bullying the staff in Zegna. I slammed into him on my way out and I told him his fly's undone. That's it. I didn't flirt with him if that's what you're implying."

Eric evaded her gaze, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He hated himself for being so jealous. He loathed that she could see this ugly side of him he never thought existed until she came along.

He took deliberate breaths to calm his seething nerves. He pinched his eyes shut to clear his head and that was when he felt delicate fingers trailing from his jawline to his lips.

He turned to her and she didn't wait for him to say anything else before she latched onto his lips feverishly. It only took Eric a fraction of a second to catch up to her and soon they were devouring each other's mouths with piercing tongues. Their kiss was hurried, rough and tumultuous. It was like they wanted to prove something unspoken.

"You're a stupid Viking," she husked between kisses as she left a burning path along his jaw. Eric, who seemed to have grown an extra pair of hands, grabbed onto her blouse and resisted the impulse to tear it apart.

"And you're a fucking tease," he growled as he struggled to undo the buttons of her virginal white blouse.

"You really are a dumbass, dumbass. Why would I want another smug bastard when I already have you?" she mocked while she tugged at his gray shirt, pulling it from underneath his pants.

"Then I guess that makes you a dumbass too," he whispered purring in her ear before he licked the flesh behind her lobe.

"And why is that?" she mewed, unzipping the one fly she wanted undone.

"Because only a dumbass can love another dumbass, dumbass." He smirked deviously as he watched her cheeks turn red.

She detested how easily he could make her blush and the way his lips tugged into a know-it-all smirk. With the drive to wipe the damning smirk off his face she crushed her mouth against his and hoped the tinted windows of the dark SUV was enough to conceal what two dumbasses could do in such a tight space.

* * *

**E/S**

Gray wisps of smoke curled like slender fingers and clung in the air a little bit longer in the windowless room.

"What time will Eric be here?" Felipe De Castro rasped before he puffed smoke rings and took another indulgent sip of whiskey. He glanced at his gold-plated wristwatch while he tapped the ash of his Cuban cigar on the floor.

Anthony Murello, who was sitting slothfully in a red leather single-seat chair, mumbled something in his native language before he took a long drag of his Cuban. "They'll be here soon."

Felipe and Tony had been waiting for the Viking for almost an hour in one of Tony's safe houses beside the airport. It had been two days since De Castro had been back in Las Vegas after a grueling trip from Panama to the US. The agent who went to fetch him had made arrangements in Mumbai where they stayed for a couple of days before they headed to Muscat, then to Seoul and lastly to Belize where they took the Viking's private jet en route to Nevada. The side trips were taxing but necessary to make sure that the Spaniard's return to the City of Sin would not make a blip in Russell's radar.

"They?" Felipe queried, the lines in his forehead deepening.

"He's bringing Sookie." Tony's offhanded reply earned him a quizzical look from the Spaniard. "The girlfriend," he answered the unspoken query.

"When did he start bringing his whores in his meetings?" Felipe muttered in his gravelly voice.

Felipe De Castro was very serious man. He wasn't like Tony who took pleasure inflicting torture. He wasn't like Russell who could be very mercurial. (Only toward Madden whose betrayal was unforgivable)

He wasn't like Eric whose Hedonistic nature was legendary. He was a dog with a bone. The perfect workhorse who didn't fancy any diversion.

Tony exchanged a disapproving glance with his second, Jake Purifoy, who was standing by the door, a toothpick between his teeth, hands tucked in his pockets. Jake scratched the back of his head while the Italian Mafioso sniggered.

"Better watch your tongue, my friend, Eric may not be as generous when he hears what you call Sookie," Tony chided lightheartedly. Although his voice was lilting with a mock reproach, the grave undertone behind it did not escape the Spaniard.

Felipe pursed his lips, heavy fumes slithering out of his mouth. "Why would he hang an albatross around his neck?" Felipe shook his head. "Women are nothing but distraction."

Tony stood from his chair and went to the corner bar to refill his glass. "Have you forgotten that the Viking's _numero uno_ henchman is a woman?"

Felipe followed Tony at the bar and extended his glass to the Italian for another shot. "Pamela doesn't count. She's one of the boys. This Sookie… " he spat the name like chewed up cigar. " … tell me she's not just some floozy who's only good for plumbing."

Tony patted Felipe at the back, making his way back to his highback chair.

"Sookie is no harlot, my friend," Tony said dismissively, his face turning somber. "She's the goddamned Helen of Troy."

The slight of twitch of the Spaniard's jaw was the only indication of his surprise. He had no more questions, not yet, at least.

"Then I hope they show up soon so I can see for myself if she indeed has the face that can launch a thousand ships."

* * *

**E/S**

"Are you sure about this, Eric?" Sookie asked as they stood side by side inside a tiny rundown elevator.

Eric threw her a puckish grin before he pressed the number five button and pivoted to face her. "Really, Sookie you're starting to offend me. Don't tell me the mighty and fearless Stackhouse is nervous of Felipe De Castro?"

She darted her tongue out and licked her lips before she curled her finger in a come-hither motion. Eric leaned in, humoring her. She reached out to straighten his tie that had gotten a little wrinkled from the session they just had in the parking lot.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," she hushed, pulling him down so she could press her lips against his ear. "I'm _always_ nervous. I'm just good at pretending I'm not."

Eric drew back and lifted her chin with one knuckle.

"You sure fooled me," he whispered and was about to capture her lips when he remembered the camera installed inside the lift that was sending direct feed to Tony upstairs. He settled for a chaste kiss instead before he draped his arm protectively across her shoulder. "Don't worry. If you can handle Tony, then Felipe is child's play."

The elevator doors opened and led them straight into a spartan loft with red brick walls.

There were two armed men guarding the doors and three more outside a steel door that looked like a vault. One of the three posted guards knocked and not a minute later it swung open with a creaking sound, revealing the sneering Jake Purifoy with his disheveled black hair and chocolate brown eyes.

"Jake." Eric nodded curtly.

"Mr. Northman," Jake replied with a perfunctory nod then turned to Sookie and flashed her a toothy grin. "Miss Stackhouse." He bobbed his head again but this time it came with a wink. Sookie beamed at Jake while the Viking glared unabashedly at Tony's lieutenant who was getting far too genial toward the Southerner for Eric's liking.

"They're waiting for you," Jake said, putting his serious mask back on.

Eric ushered Sookie in with a firm hand on her back and were greeted by two middle aged men who sprung up from their chairs.

Tony Murello extinguished his cigar in the ashtray before he took Sookie's hand and gave it a fleeting kiss. "Sookie," he greeted.

"Mister Fredrickson," she quipped.

Tony knotted his brows into a befuddled frown. "You always say that, but I still don't get it."

Sookie grinned, pulling her hand gently from his grasp. "Maybe you should give the Godfather trilogy a break and start watching cartoons."

Tony sniggered. "Not until I perfect my Robert Duvall impression."

Sookie rolled her eyes as she inched her way back to Eric's side who was talking in hushed tones with the man she could only assume was the infamous Spaniard, Felipe De Castro.

The Hispanic looking guy turned to Sookie when Eric took her hand. It baffled Felipe at how organic the gesture had seemed. Like their hands were never meant to be separated. Felipe filed that observation for later.

Felipe, as Sookie found, certainly appeared like he was of Spanish descent with his olive complexion, deep brown eyes, thin lips and a pronounced nose. He was like George Clooney without the cleft chin and the killer smile. His salt and pepper hair was neatly combed and parted and the black turtleneck he was wearing clung to his chiseled torso.

"Did you get the money? Are you sure it's enough to ensure our friend will have the best accommodation in Sabaneta?" Eric muttered grimly.

Felipe grinned indulgently. "I'm sure. _De los verdes_ (American dollars) has proven to be very persuasive in the past. My contact's already waiting for me in Maracaibo. I will be off the grid when I get to Zulia but I'll give you the details when I come back here before the fight."

Felipe, in his years of experience with dealing beyond the red tape, had accumulated a number of contacts from simple errand boys to high ranking military officials in the most corrupt parts of the world. And nothing could be more depraved than the Venezuelan officers.

"I will make sure Madden will be fucked like a Queen inside," Felipe added, his tone laced with unadulterated loathing. "It's a shame you won't be there to hear his wails of pleasure."

"Your word is good enough for me," Eric quipped, his thumb drawing small circles at the back of Sookie's hand which made Felipe dart his eyes to Tony beside him. The Italian's lips tugged slightly at the side as he gave Felipe an I-told-you-so look.

The exchange between Tony and Felipe did not escape the Viking's keen eyes. "Felipe, I'd like you to meet Sookie," Eric introduced as Sookie extended her hand to the Spaniard who took it without hesitation. But instead of shaking it, Felipe bowed his head and gave the back of her hand a chaste kiss.

Eric stiffened as his hand tightened around Sookie's, an involuntary reflex which made Sookie fluster in chagrin.

"Sookie. Quite an unusual name. It suits you," Felipe said, the side of his lips crinkled as he smiled at her. "Is that a nickname? Or are your parents just too clever?"

"Just clever," she quipped as she tugged her hand away from Felipe all the while wondering whatever happened with the simple shaking of hands tradition. "It's not that unusual actually. It's an old name from the South."

"Ah, how could I have missed your accent? Let me guess… Louisiana?" Felipe asked, waving a long finger at Sookie.

Sookie nodded wordlessly as she scrutinized the Spaniard's gesture. If he were really interested in her name or just mocking her. Her instinct told her it was the latter.

"I'm quite good at picking up a Southern drawl. I can tell which state you're from just by listening to your cadence," the Spaniard continued while Tony returned to his seat and picked up his drink. Eric, on the other hand, was observing Sookie and Felipe's exchange with a little wariness, gauging the Spaniard's motives.

"How lovely for you," Sookie said curtly as she squeezed closer to the Viking's side. "Did it ever come in handy?"

Felipe chortled and shook his head. "No. Not very often," he responded with levity. "But it was the skill that got Russell to hire me as his accountant. He said that among the candidates I was the only one who picked up his Mississippi drawl."

Sookie tensed up at the mention of Russell Edgington while Eric raised his eyebrow with genuine curiosity. "He's from Mississippi?" Eric asked.

"_Si, si_. His family owns one of the biggest hotel and casino in Biloxi. The Edgingtons started their gaming business with riverboat gambling," Felipe replied a matter-of-factly. He turned back to Sookie who was absorbing every bit of information about the horrid kingpin. "If you don't mind me asking Sookie, which part of Louisiana are you from?"

"Bon Temps."

If Sookie weren't watching him closely she would have missed the way Felipe's neck contract when his breath hitched at her response.

"Is somethin' the matter, Mr. De Castro?" she asked with a saccharine smile.

"What is your family name, Sookie?" Felipe queried, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows shot up.

Eric moved in front of Sookie in defensive stance. "What's with the questions, Felipe?"

Felipe cracked a humorless smile, still waiting for a response.

Sookie hooked her arm around Eric's in an appeasing manner. Her eyes met his and she offered him half a smile. "Stackhouse," she replied tersely.

This time there was no hiding Felipe's discomfiture. His grip around his glass tightened and his adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed thickly.

"You're Corbett's daughter, Susannah," he mumbled silently more to himself as though he was piecing together a puzzle.

"Sookie," she corrected him quickly. "No one calls me Susannah anymore. Not after my Gran died."

Eric gripped Felipe's shoulder. "You know something." It wasn't a question. "Tell me." It wasn't a request.

Felipe shook his head like he was shaking off water from his ear. Like he was shaking off a bad memory.

"I've met your father before…" Felipe trailed his voice becoming softer and softer.

"He died?" Sookie finished pointedly. "Do you know who killed him?" She moved in front of Eric, wedging herself between the Viking and the Spaniard. "Was it Longshadow? Russell? ... Or was it you?"

Felipe's eyes flitted to Eric before they settled on Sookie. "I assure you, Susannah, it wasn't me, neither was it Russell. Longshadow wouldn't either. He didn't have the _cojones_ to pull something like that."

"Forgive me, Mr. De Castro, but I know shit when I smell one. You know somethin' and I want to know exactly what it is," she muttered through clenched jaw. "And stop calling me Susannah!"

Eric wrapped his arm around her. He could feel her trembling and he was instantly conflicted. He, too, wanted answers but he didn't like seeing Sookie so distraught. Unhinged.

"I _am_ protecting someone. I'm protecting you!" Felipe bellowed. "I was probably one of the last people who saw your father alive and he asked me – made me swear – to do everything in my power to keep you from Russell."

Sookie stared at the Spaniard, slack-jawed and fuming. "What the hell are you talking about? Why would my dad ask you that? What did Russell do to him for him to fear that bastard so much?"

Felipe let out a heavy sigh. "Russell didn't kill Corbett. He couldn't. But he might as well did. He gave your father the Scarface chip, knowing well enough that it would make your father the target of almost everyone in Las Vegas who knew of the existence of the trinity."

Eric's grip tightened around Sookie while Big Tony, who was eavesdropping on the heavily charged conversation, let out an uncharacteristic gasp.

"Scarface chip?" Sookie asked, unperturbed by the reaction that came with the revelation.

It was Tony who answered her query as the Italian Mafioso jumped up from his chair. "It's Al Capone's infamous chip, Sookie. Back in the thirties all the way into the forties during the boom of organized crime in Vegas. Al Capone, Lucky Luciano and Bugsy Siegel formed an unlikely alliance. It was a well-kept secret among them because it violates the first rule of _Cosa Nostra_ – their families. Everything must be kept inside the family. But their greed got the best of them. To commemorate their union they had three chips custom-made out of platinum and diamonds. They were called Scarface, Lucky and Bugsy chips. Each chip was virtually invaluable but if one has to put a price on it, it can amount to at least fifty million dollars apiece. Every year its value hikes up."

Everyone in the room, including Jake Purifoy who still guarding the door, were listening intently to Anthony Murello.

"Rumor has it that the mafia bosses passed on their chips to their successors in their respective families. Some also say that they were passed on to the Irish Mafia which was connected to the Rat Pack – Sinatra, Davis, Martin. They said JFK died with the Lucky chip in his pocket. I know for a fact that Godric had the Bugsy, Eric. I didn't know that Russell had the Scarface," Tony finished.

Sookie whirled to face Eric, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. "Eric?"

"Giving someone as defenseless as your dad the Scarface was like releasing a limping deer during open season," Eric agreed.

"Why would Russell do that?" Sookie cried turning to Felipe again. She could feel tears pricking her eyes but she didn't want to cry in front of Felipe and Tony. She would not be viewed as a weakling the way they saw her father. "What did my dad do to him?"

Felipe opened his mouth but only air came out. He looked like a man battling with an internal war. "Susa—Sookie…" he started but was cut off when one of Tony's men outside came bustling in the room.

"Boss, air control called. Madden's plane has radioed in. They'll be landing in half an hour," the stocky young man with an Irish accent reported.

"We need to be at the tarmac in ten minutes to get in position," Jake chiseled in while checking his diver's watch.

Eric and Sookie gave each other a wary glance before they turned to Felipe who never took his eyes off Sookie.

"Stay here. I'll talk to him," Eric hushed reassuringly, squeezing her shoulder before he released it. Felipe shot Sookie poignant look before he and Tony made a beeline at the door.

Sookie nodded to Eric before she plopped herself into one of the leather chairs. She did get some answers but none were the ones she needed. She let out a pocket of breath before she buried her face in her hands, weeping silently. She could hear heavy footsteps outside but she didn't care. She knew Eric would not leave her.

After all the information she gathered, the only thing that made sense to her was that Russell Edgington killed her father. He might not be the one to pull the trigger but he was the one who provided the loaded gun.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric clamped his hand on Felipe's arm, stopping the Spaniard on his tracks.

"What aren't you telling me, Felipe?" Eric growled. "Why did Russell want Sookie's father dead?"

"It's complicated, Eric," he said in a resigned tone. "Even I couldn't understand."

"Fuck, complicated. Tell me what I need to know… or all bets are off. I made you disappear once, Felipe. I can do it again. This time it will be for good." Eric was no longer growling but the underlying coldness in his voice was more menacing than his snarls.

The sound of the helicopter hovering above the helipad on top of the loft was blaring that Felipe had to cover one ear to muffle it. But Eric remained in his position, unfazed by all the commotion as four of Tony's men including Jake boarded the helicopter which would take them to the airport. The plan was simple: drag and drop.

Victor Madden traveled with two body guards all the time, one of which had already been bribed to drug Victor inside the jet. The pilot, who was also on Eric's payroll, would alert Tony of their arrival all the while providing the ruse in the airport security. The other guard and the rest of the staff would be taken care of by Jake and his crew while Felipe and Tony dragged Madden inside the waiting jet that would take Victor straight to Venezuela.

"I know what's at stake here, Eric. The question is, do you?" Felipe hissed, chafed by Eric's threat. "Do us both a favor and ask yourself if she's really worth it. If she is, then I suggest you do everything humanly possible to keep her away from Russell. Because once Russell gets his hands on her, all these will be for nothing." He put a hand on Eric's shoulder as a heartening gesture.

Eric clenched his jaw and shrugged him off gruffly. "Finish this quickly, Felipe. Then we'll talk."

Felipe nodded solemnly at Eric before he rushed to the helicopter. Eric didn't wait for the chopper to lift off before he jogged back to the door where he saw Sookie waiting for him.

"I don't trust him," said Sookie, her eyes swollen from crying and Eric instantly felt the need to punch a wall.

He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face against his chest. "Neither do I. But right now he's the only one who can connect the dots. And I promise you, Sookie, you _will_ get your answers."

"What if the reason Russell wants me is because he thinks I have the Scarface and he wants it back?" she asked haltingly.

"We'll find out soon enough," Eric breathed out. He despised the lack of conviction in his own voice. It wasn't because he was doubting his ability to get the truth from Felipe. It was because he didn't know if he wanted to know what the truth was.

* * *

**AN: I don't own TB or SVM. **

**A big thank you to my Venezuelan friend, P (trish00) who gave me a helpful background of sabaneta. I meant no offense to Venezuela, it's a beautiful country. Thank you so so much for indulging me and sending me helpful feedback. I posted the same chapter on my wp page and included Michael and Felipe's photos. **

**Love, love, love my sweets! **


	32. Chapter 32

'_Left over right… or is it right over left? Shit!'_

"Eric! Stop!" Sookie pressed her knees together to halt Eric's hands from grazing her thighs under her little black dress. "If I don't do this properly Pam will make me wear five-inch heels tonight!"

She had been wrestling with Eric's bowtie for the last ten minutes, trying to remember the steps Pam taught her last night when she demonstrated it on Cho. Her neck was getting strained from craning that she decided to hop on the bed to get a better leverage. Enter Eric the opportunist who didn't waste any time snaking his nimble fingers up her ankles all the way to her legs.

"Shhh… just focus on your task and I'll focus on mine," he purred, his fingers slithering upward to her inner thighs, trembling in anticipation as he got near his prize. Sookie's eyes fluttered close when she felt his adept fingers through the sheer fabric of her black stockings.

Then he stopped.

"Dammit..." he groaned when he discovered she was wearing pantyhose instead of the regular thigh highs.

Sookie grinned and cupped his face. "You cuss a lot," she chided before she kissed him softly on the forehead, sweeping loose hair off his temple.

"Come with me tonight," he said in a husky voice as he tangled his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him. His silk tie - dangling around his neck – completely forgotten.

"After the wedding, remember? So I can give Jason a heads up before he sees my picture filed under 'The Northman Project' in Lafayette's Us Weekly," Sookie said with pleading eyes, using air quotes, to lighten the mood. (Yes, he was coming as her plus one. After a very, very lengthy discussion.)

It was Pam and Sookie's night off from the North and they decided to get some much needed girl time at The Deuce lounge at the Boulevard before Sookie and Eric fly to New Orleans the day after tomorrow.

The night was not as exhilarating for Eric, though, for he was relegated to the Founder's Ball at the Bellagio. It was an annual gathering of all Nevadan entrepreneurs to pay respect to one of the founding fathers of Las Vegas, Pat McCarran. It was held every eighth of August - McCarran's birthday - which happened to be a very auspicious day for superstitious gamblers: 08-08.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Oh shit!" Sookie blurted, jumping off the bed and grabbing her three-inch black pumps underneath the vanity dresser in the en suite bath.

Eric tsked in mock reproach while he fixed his tie. "You cuss a lot," he chided echoing her previous sentiment.

Sookie slipped on her shoes before she threw him a dirty look. "You're rubbing off on me," she said in retort then ran toward the door in the adjacent room of his penthouse at the North.

Pam, arms akimbo and looking femme fatale in her red one-shoulder Chanel wrap that hugged her curves in all the right places, gave Sookie a once over, judging the Southerner's little black dress which was accentuated by a blue leather belt. Sookie wore her hair down, letting her natural big curls highlight her smoky eyes and pink-tinged cheeks.

"Ready?" Pam asked, looking over Sookie's shoulder to peek at the Viking, who was making his way toward them.

"One minute. I'll just grab my purse." She marched back toward the bedroom, leaving Pam and Eric behind.

"Did you find out who sent her the flowers?" Eric asked Pam quietly.

Pam shook her head. "Tracy wasn't in the shop today. There were six Michaels who came in for fitting yesterday. They weren't sure who Sookie bumped into."

"Keep digging. I want to know who that asshole was." Pam acquiesced with a soft nod just in time for Sookie to stride into the living room.

The Southerner turned to Eric. "Later, okay? And you eat somethin' before you fill up with scotch."

Eric forced himself to remain stoic and not break into a grin from her mawkish nagging. "Be back here by 12," he countered gruffly, slipping his mobile phone in the inner pocket of his dinner jacket.

"Twelve? What am I sixteen?" Sookie snapped mischievously, placing a hand on her hip.

"Two. Take it or leave it," he replied, folding his arms across his chest.

"Three."

Pam looked back and forth at Sookie and Eric, an amused smile forming at the side of her blood-red lips.

"Two thirty. Not a minute later," was his last offer.

She cocked her head to the side. "And if I'm late?"

"I'll go home without you. You can sleep outside," he intoned, cocking his eyebrow challengingly.

Sookie bit her inner cheeks to hide her own amusement.

"I have my own keys."

"Then I'll release the hounds." He dipped his head to meet hers.

"We don't have dogs." She tilted her head up to graze the tip of her nose with his.

"Then maybe we should get one." He darted his tongue to lick her bottom lip, tasting her cherry-flavored lip gloss.

"Maybe we should." She slung her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth against his, pouring herself into the kiss that was meant to make up for the few hours they were apart.

* * *

**E/S**

"Scarface?" Sam let out a pocket of breath, cracking his knuckles in front of him. "I'll be damned!"

Eric sat in the swivel chair in front of the Hawk, waiting for Sam to digest the piece of information he divulged to his geeky assistant.

"And you want me to locate it?" Sam asked, grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned toward Eric.

Eric nodded. "I have the Bugsy. It's in the vault in Switzerland. My dad kept it there along with my mother's engagement ring. Pam already made arrangements for it to be delivered here but it can take a week because of all the paperwork. In the meantime, I want you to call in some favors to find out everything about the Scarface. You might need to cast the net wider. It might not be in Vegas anymore," Eric said in a clinical tone.

"You think the person who has it is the killer?" Sam queried in a hushed tone.

"Or the one who ordered the hit on Corbett."

"Is the myth behind the chips true, boss?" Sam inquired, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans. "That whoever has the trinity can ask the five families for any favor?"

The five families – Gambino, Lucchese, Bonanno, Colombo and Luciano - were the Sicilian Mafia who started their rise to power in New York before they scattered all over the United States including the glitzy state of Nevada.

"Yes," was Eric's only reply. He could not count the number of hours Godric had spent with him rehashing stories about the trinity. The power it could wield and the doors it could open.

"Find it, Hawk. But let's keep it between us for now. I want to find out who has it before Sookie does. She tends to have a one-track mind when it comes to her father."

Eric could only imagine what Sookie would do if she found out who took her father's life. And that was not a chance he was willing to take.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie's gusty laugh rippled above the loud thumping music in the dimly lit bar. She threw her head back as she covered her mouth to muffle another fit of giggles while Pam did an impression of Eric as Macbeth.

It had happened when the Viking was caught smoking weed behind the schoolyard in his boarding school in Switzerland when he was 14.

At such a young age, Eric was already a master manipulator. He had forged connections outside the puritanical academy and his flunkies were able to smuggle anything to him from Absinthe to Playboys – the magazines and, on special occasions, even the bunnies.

He would have made it out of the private school with an unblemished record if his friend weren't caught as stoned as a wall and ratted the Viking out. As punishment, Eric was strong-armed to take the title role in Shakespeare's darkest tragedy.

"Godric gave me a copy of the tape. He told me to use it to blackmail his son when he gets too obnoxious," Pam divulged. "It was painful to watch, Sookie," the leggy blonde shuddered. "Like a having a root canal." Pam tucked a stray hair that fell out of her French twist, before she reached for her overpriced dry martini.

"How about you, darling? Any embarrassing stories to add to my collection?"

"So you could torture me with it? No, thank you. I still love my life."

Pam snickered and popped a green olive in her mouth. "You know, Sookie, I never really liked you at first. You're way too jaded and gloomy for my taste," she said, pointing the swizzle stick at the Southerner, who was rolling her eyes in mock derision.

"Aww, you do know how to warm my heart," Sookie said sarcastically before she took a sip of her gin and tonic

"That. That snark won me over. You're scrappy and you've got moxie. I like it. You have grown on me, my little bumpkin pie," Pam drawled with a sly smirk. "Plus, I like Eric more when he's with you," she said wistfully, "he's less… scary."

Sookie could feel her cheeks blaze and thanked the poor lighting in their corner booth that hid her abashment.

Pam was in the middle of telling Sookie another one of Eric's antics when a heavy bosomed brunette barmaid in a tight red dress strolled in their booth carrying a bottle of champagne.

"The gentleman by the bar with the red tie wants to give this to you," the waitress said blithely, handing the bottle to Pam.

The label-whoring blonde, who was notorious for her expensive taste, scanned the label. Judging by the slight twitch of her perfectly lined brow, the sparkly wine, as Sookie deduced, must have met Pam's predilection for exquisite drinks.

"Hmm… Dom Perignon. Not bad," Pam mumbled more to herself.

The Southerner, on the other hand, remained unimpressed. She didn't like accepting gifts. Especially those that would probably make them suffer complete strangers. But it seemed Pam had the same notion when she returned the bottle to the idle barmaid with a slight shake of her head.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm afraid we can't take it," Pam said in a sickly sweet voice that almost made Sookie wince.

The waitress seemed surprised at Pam's audacity to turn away a 2,000-dollar champagne, but she quickly shook it off and gave Pam and Sookie an obligatory smile before she walked away, swaying her hips with enthusiasm.

Pam stood up from the leather couch and made a big show of smoothing the strap of her dress to disguise her snooping as she tried to spot the generous patron. "I can't see the fuckwad from here. I'll go to the ladies' room and check out my cheeky admirer. Stay here," she instructed Sookie who just bobbed her head in assent, checking her mobile phone for any text message from Eric.

It was half past the witching hour and she wondered if Eric had eaten anything yet. She knew how listless Eric could get in those insipid gatherings that he would prefer libation over the actual dining to dull his nerves.

She could imagine him nursing a glass of scotch ignoring the insistent growling of his stomach. She shook the image away and started typing a message. _'Put the glass down and eat something.' _

Not a minute later her phone vibrated in her hand. He must have been bored out of his mind if he could send a reply that quick, she thought.

'_Are you spying on me, Miss Stackhouse?'_

Sookie smiled. _'You're just too predictable,' _she typed again.

'_I'm saving my appetite for when I eat you later,'_ was his immediate response.

The flesh between her thighs clenched at his blunt words. The air suddenly grew thick and she cursed inwardly at his ability to make her squirm despite their distance.

She was racking her brain for a witty comeback to rival his illicit message when Pam came marching back, her five-inch heels tapping wildly against the tiled floor. "Don't look now, but something wicked this way comes," she whispered conspiratorially to the Southerner before she took the seat opposite Sookie.

"Are we still doing Macbeth?" Sookie chirped, recognizing the quote from the play. Her cheery mood was short-lived, though, because the next thing she saw was a tall man in a black suit and a red skinny tie sauntering toward their booth with an air of arrogance that could only be mastered through years of practice.

Sookie darted her eyes at Pam but the leggy blonde's attention had already zeroed in on the incoming intruder. Sookie followed suit and squinted her eyes to get a closer look at the unwanted guest. Her stomach churned when she saw his lips curl into a sneer.

'_Sonofabitch!'_

He was Mr. Windbag from Zegna!

She steeled her nerves before she locked gazes with him. A strong surge of revulsion coursed through her when she felt that elitist air surrounding him. He had a no non-sense expression that could make the most eloquent man fumble for words with one stare. She disliked him even more than she did yesterday.

He stopped his advances when he was right in front of the ladies, occupying the space beside the small round table that cradled their drinks and clutch bags. His presence was like a vacuum, sucking in the gaiety in the air.

Subtlety, as Sookie discovered, was not his strong suit when he blatantly gave Sookie a long scrutinizing gaze that made her skin crawl. She managed to suppress a shudder but was too late to stop her lips from quivering from disgust.

Mr. Windbag must have mistaken Sookie's reaction for adoration as his eyebrow arched slightly and flashed her half a smile.

He turned to Pam. "Pamela," his voice was dry and raspy, as though he had not spoken in a long time. It was meant to be a greeting but it sounded anything but. His tone was blasé and condescending and downright appalling.

But his cockiness was not the thing that disturbed the Southerner the most. She had expected him to be an ass. It _was_ the fact that Pam was enabling him to be jerk that was grating at Sookie's nerves.

Perplexity engulfed Sookie when she saw Pam nod to the uninvited guest with some sort of reverence. No. Not reverence. Respect, would be more suitable. It was as if the usually feisty Pam were _scared_ of the newcomer.

"Michael," Pam said and stood up to greet him. Mr. Windbag gestured for Pam to take her seat and the leggy blonde scooched over to make room for the smarmy prowler. "I didn't know you were in town."

The man sat lazily and crossed his legs in front of him. He cast a sideway glance at Pam before he slowly returned his gaze back to the Southerner.

"Only for a few days," he replied. "Eric's at the Founder's Ball, I presume?"

Sookie's breath hitched at the mention of her Viking. From the offhanded usage of Eric's name and Pam's befuddling deference to him, Sookie inferred that Mr. Windbag could be one of Eric's acquaintances. Old friend or life-long rival, she couldn't decide.

She wondered what Eric might think if he found out he were the same insufferable jerk from Zegna.

"He is," Pam replied with another bob of her head. "Aren't you supposed to attend the ball? Is that why you're in Vegas?" The leggy blonde spared Sookie a taut smile, which was supposed to be reassuring but came off as nervy.

"No. It's much too dull for my liking," he replied, never peeling his piercing light blue eyes from Sookie while he swirled a glass of golden liquor in his hand. "I'll only be here for a while. I want to spend my time wisely." There was something malicious with the way he said those last words. It sounded like an invitation and Sookie found it loathsome that it was directed at her.

He stroked the five o'clock shadow along his jawline before he cleared his throat. "Pamela, aren't you going to introduce me to your company?" he asked with a leer, his voice getting more suave and demanding.

Pam shifted uncomfortably in her seat before she gestured toward the Southerner. "Michael, this is Sookie. She's my friend from Louisiana."

The man with the seemingly perpetual sneer leaned forward, placing his glass on the center table and extended his hand to the silent woman in front of him.

"Sookie…" her name came out like a hiss from his thin lips.

Sookie glanced at his outstretched arm then back to his face. Her Southern hospitality was being challenged as she took his hand mutely and with obvious reluctance. If it weren't for Pam she would have gladly matched his expression, a sneer for a sneer.

"We've already met," Sookie grumbled before she yanked her hand back as soon as he touched it.

A dark shadow passed Mr. Windbag's features. But he quickly composed himself and put his stolid façade back on. He withdrew his hand and inched forward. "Did you like the flowers?"

Pam turned sharply at Sookie, her lips parted in surprise.

Sookie shot Pam a knowing look before she addressed Mr. Windbag. "I was wondering how you found out where to send it," she replied dryly, blatantly dismissing his previous query.

His leer turned into a languid smile, raising his glass to his lips. "I have my ways," he drawled before taking a small sip of his cognac.

"Of course you have," Sookie cooed tartly. Out of her periphery she saw Pam stiffen and dart her eyes at her with a mix of incredulity and, thankfully, delight.

Sookie turned her gaze toward the sunken dance floor, thinking of a multitude of ways she could agitate Mr. Windbag so he would leave them alone.

However, Mr. Windbag had another idea. He cocked his head to Pam. "_Est-elle la vôtre? Puis-je l'avoir?_ (Is she yours? Can I have her?)" he asked in flawless French.

Pam snapped her head in his direction, bewilderment coloring her face. It took all of Sookie's restraint not to sprint out of her chair and slap the man in front of her.

"She's off-limits, Michael," Pam replied with a firmer tone, to Sookie's utter relief.

"Off limits?" He chuckled bitingly. "I'm confused. This is still Las Vegas, isn't it?"

Pam pursed her lips and flicked invisible dust at the hem of her skirt to gather her poise. Sookie stole a fleeting glance at the leggy blonde and saw her lean in to Michael and mouthed, "she's Eric's."

If Michael were shocked by the declaration, he showed no sign of it.

"Eric's," he repeated as though he was deliberating his next course of action. He ran his thumb over his lower lip. "_Quelle honte. J'espérais que je pourrais avoir du plaisir avec elle pendant que je suis ici_. (What a shame. I was hoping I could have fun with her while I'm here.)"

Sookie closed her eyes and let out a small huff of breath. She never thought the day would come when she would be so relieved to be tagged as someone's property. A footnote in the big book of Viking.

"Michael, please," Pam crooned with a syrupy smile that was as genuine as Lafayette's Gucci purse. She patted his thigh lightly and waved her hand around the lounge. "_Ce bar essaime avec les femmes attrayantes prêtes à se lancer sur vous. Oublier celui-ci._ (This bar is swarming with attractive women ready to throw themselves at you. Forget this one.)"

Sookie recognized Pam's tone despite her fluid accent. It was the same one she always used on obstinate high-rollers who refused to leave the casino. She felt a strong urge to snicker at Pam's attempt at flattery but thought it would not be advantageous for her to do so, given the circumstances. She tore her gaze away from dance floor and took the black thin straw out of her glass. It was only slowing her down. She downed her gin and tonic in one gulp wincing at the fizzle of the alcohol in her throat.

She could feel Mr. Windbag's eyes drill a hole into her skull. She took a deliberate breath and decided to end the badly choreographed tango.

She locked her gaze with him, repressing a shiver. She snatched her purse from the table and turned to Pam, who was following her movements with a guarded expression.

"It's getting late, Pam. We should be getting back to the North. Eric must be waiting for us," Sookie said, her mask of ennui intact.

Michael's brows shot up to his forehead.

A look of utter relief crossed Pam's tensed features as the leggy blonde mirrored her movements and walked behind her with unhurried steps so as not to offend their guest.

"I'd love to stay and catch up, Michael. But duty calls and I'm still on the clock." Pam punctuated her polite excuse with a dramatic shrug.

Sookie saw his eyes narrow into slits. At his position in the sofa, he was forced to tilt his head up to look at the Southerner. She watched with bated breath as his fingers curl tightly around the glass he was holding and for a second she thought it would break and maim him.

Alas, no such luck.

"Stay," he said. It wasn't a request and it wasn't intended for Pam. "I'm sure Eric won't mind. He's probably looking for your replacement at the Bellagio right now."

The time for niceties had passed.

Sookie would have staggered backward by the blow if she weren't expecting it. "That's the best you can come up with?" she asked sharply, ignoring Pam's low snigger beside her. "_J'ai entendu pire _(I've heard worse)," she finished in her rusty but passable Cajun French. She sent a mental high-five to her high school French teacher whose name she still could not pronounce.

Pam appeared impressed but Mr. Windbag was not. He was livid and Sookie could feel the rage vibrating off his skin.

But to his credit, he managed to keep his features neutral when stood to his full height and hovered over Sookie in his six-foot frame.

The Southerner calmly returned his gaze, thrusting her chin up. She almost felt sorry for the asshole with the pretentious tie. He had no clue that she had already perfected the art of the stare down with the Viking as her sparring partner.

After a short but undeniably charged silence, Sookie finally broke the stalemate.

"Good night, Michael. I would say it was nice meeting you, but I was raised not to lie," was Sookie's Parthian shot before she stepped out of the dark booth with Pam stalking behind her.

"_He's_ your Michael?" Pam hushed as they got near the exit. She waved at the bartender and asked him to put their bill on her tab.

"He's not _my_ Michael!" Sookie whisper-yelled - revolted by the idea of being remotely incorporated to the arrogant bastard.

Pam made a sound that was a cross between a snort and chuckle. "You really know how to draw them in, don't you. First Eric, then Michael. I'm changing my initial opinion of you. You're not gloomy… you're saucy. I can't wait to tell Eric." Pam whipped her phone out of her purse and started dialing.

Sookie clasped her icy-cold fingers on Pam's wrist and pushed it down. "Take me to the Bellagio instead."

* * *

**E/S**

Eric had been restless the entire night. There was something scratching at the back of his head that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It could not have been because of the dreary gala. It had already been established how much he despised these kinds of gatherings.

The people were too stiff. Too perfect in their designer clothes and Harry Winstons. They were like wind-up dolls whose moves were always premeditated. He should know, he was one of them and he detested that knowledge all the more.

He was at his favorite spot. By the bar. Alone. He didn't bother to socialize. His mere attendance was enough to gratify the hosts. He pushed the untouched glass of scotch away silently cursing Sookie, his wily lover, who managed to coax him to veer from his routine.

Real estate moguls, high-profile businessmen and celebrities, who flew in to Vegas for the event, tried to engage him in a conversation. But they quickly grew tired of his monosyllabic responses, not to mention his permanent scowl that he had picked up from the Queen of Snark. It was ironic really how they seemed to influence each other. She could now pull off his trademark smirk when she was teasing him and he could promptly ward off unwanted companions with her signature glare.

He leaned on the thick mahogany bar and scanned the room. It really was no mystery why Sookie would not want to be injected in this type of travesty. It would only extinguish her fire. Her rapier wit would be frowned upon, cast as mere ignorance. Her principles would be questioned to no end. Her tragic story would be met with fervor only because it was a laughable soap opera that was so diverse from their realities.

But as much as he wanted to shield her from this world, he couldn't. It was an inevitability that was quickly becoming a necessity. She would be safer in the public eye than in the dark. Especially after the disturbing conversation he had last night with Felipe De Castro.

He glanced at his wristwatch. 1:10am. One more fucking hour. He took his mobile phone out and checked it. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to give her a call.

She picked up on the second ring.

"Miss me already," she chimed.

"Oh sorry. I seem to have dialed the wrong number," he lied, his voice lilting with thrill.

"Such a liar," she mumbled. He could hear the smile in her voice.

"Learned from the best," he volleyed back.

She chuckled. "Turn around," she commanded.

His brows furrowed at her request but he still obliged. Then, like an apparition, she materialized behind him, grinning impishly. Her hair less smooth than when they parted as soft yellow wispy strands feathered around her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were glassy but her lips remained delicious.

His hand that was cradling the phone dropped to his side as his heart got stuck in his throat.

He was rendered speechless. The all mighty Eric Northman was incapacitated by a woman who could barely reach his chin without her heels.

She was like a strong gust of wind that he didn't see coming. Like a whirlpool that was so hypnotic and amazing he could not look away. Yes, definitely a whirlpool - a maelstrom of water that could easily destroy him when he allowed himself to get sucked in.

She smirked.

'_Fuck that smirk.'_

"Hi," she husked, tucking her phone back in her purse, before she wet her lips with her tongue.

And that was all it took for him to get out of his stupor.

In one swift maneuver he laced his fingers through her ruffled hair and captured her lips. To his surprise, she offered no resistance. He felt her small hand gripped his shoulder before she slanted her head to deepen the kiss. It was not an easy feat to kiss someone her height because he had to stoop to reach her mouth and after some time it would start to hurt his neck. But fuck if he cared.

The rumble of whispers from the crowd, though, _that_ was another problem. Begrudgingly he drew back. She let out a soft groan at the absence of his lips, making Eric regret his move immediately.

"We have an audience," he whispered, tipping his head low. He could hear the quick shutters of the cameras, not to mention the bright lights that gleamed from the side.

"Is my hair okay?" she asked anxiously, sliding her fingers through the length of her hair.

His lips gaped slightly. "What have you been smoking?"

Sookie ran her palms through the lapels of his tuxedo before she clutched them and pulled him closer. "It's getting lonely being stuck in the closet," she sighed for effect, "I realize I wanna be the girl who gets to take home the Viking." She planted a chaste kiss on his chin, right where his dimple was.

Eric was blinking rapidly, his eyes losing focus.

"I'd rather be a scandal than a secret, Eric. So are you goin' to kiss me or am I gonna run this show alone?" she asked, gripping his lapels tighter to snap him into focus.

His lips tugged to the side, displaying his annoyingly charming smirk. He tilted his head to the crowd with come-hither eyes to make sure he got their undivided attention. What the hell was he thinking? They were unmissable.

Satisfied, Eric's arm encircled her middle and pulled her closer for a liplock that would get everyone talking for weeks if not months.

If there were ever a time to show off his craft in the art of kissing it would be now. Because everybody knew Eric Northman doesn't do anything half-assed.

* * *

**E/S **

"So the rumors were true… the Viking's officially off the market," a woman behind him drawled.

"How long do you think it'll last?" another female voice hummed, followed by an unladylike harumph.

"I heard they're living together in Spring Valley," a different voice grumbled.

Michael slammed back the rest of his whiskey, hissing at the strong liquor, then shoved his empty glass at the chest of the roaming waiter who was walking toward him.

He had heard enough.

The waiter barely caught the glass before Michael pushed past him to exit the ballroom. He didn't stop when some of his old acquaintances waved and asked him to stay.

He was done watching the fuckery that was unfolding right before his eyes.

'_What a fucking joke.' _

He had followed her from the bar. He didn't even need to ask his chauffeur to stick to their tail. He already had an idea where she would be heading. If he weren't so furious he would have laughed at the predictability of her actions.

She would run straight to Northman. Like everybody else would. For the life of him, he couldn't fathom what was so fucking special about the Viking.

'_Viking.'_ He snorted. _'Do these people even know what a Viking really is? Thieves, that's what they are. Shameless raiders. Taking something that doesn't belong to them and parade it as trophy.'_

The town car was waiting for him at the lobby of the Bellagio. He folded himself in without sparing a pitiful glance at the doorman who assisted him. Servants were there to serve, he would always say.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back against the headrest. He could still feel the icy coldness of her hand from when he shook it earlier. He could still smell the faint scent of her perfume mixed with the stench of the stuffy bar. Her woeful voice still rang in his ears like a catchy song.

Seeing her throw herself like a whore at the Viking was not surprising but still nauseating. He would have thrown up if he could, just for kicks. Just to avert the attention from them.

He had no doubt that Northman would defile her tonight. He would stamp his claim on her because that was what Vikings do. They claim. They pillage. They plunder. Until there would be nothing left but debris.

He froze when he felt the hardening of his manhood pulsing against his pants. _'Merde!_ _(Shit!)_'

He swore audibly as he adjusted his pants to make room for his aching bulge.

"We're at the Four Seasons, sir," the driver informed him before the car pulled to a stop.

"Ask my assistant to send an escort to my room. Preferably short and blonde." And cheap, he wanted to add.

The uniformed chauffer tipped his hat in assent. "Is that all, Mr. Warlow?"

'_For now.'_

* * *

**A/N: I don't own TB or Eric.**

**Finally had the guts to write about Warlow. I hope it doesn't turn out to be an epic fail.**

**Thank you so much for reading and sending me your thoughts. I appreciate them so much! The fun is just beginning. More about the plot soon. **

**I posted some pictures on wordpress, too.**

**Love. Love. Love!**


	33. Chapter 33

"It's the Count," Pam announced in a conspiratorial tone before she even took her seat across Eric inside his office at the Luxor.

He was browsing through his proposal for his meeting with Lawrence Ho, the heir of the Ho Empire that ruled the real estate business in Macau when Pam arrived. To say that his meeting with Stanley Ho's son was a game changer would be a colossal understatement.

If he were to coalesce with Lawrence, who was the Chairman and CEO of the Ho Industries, then together they could dominate Taipa.

Taipa, the smaller of the two islands in Macau, was quickly turning into a major tourist spot with luxury hotels and casinos sprouting like wild mushrooms that were seducing a wider market of gamblers from Asia. Las Vegas might still be the entertainment capital of the world but Macau was the new dragon in the gaming department.

Smack in the middle of the Cotai Strip - Taipa's version of the Las Vegas Boulevard - was Eric's pride and glory: The North Macau. Towering over all the hotels at the Taipa side with 56 floors, was Eric's baby for the past four years. It was second only to the Grand Lisboa which currently held the tallest building title in the former Portuguese colony with its 846-foot height.

The outcome of this meeting would play an integral part in Operation Raven.

It would be like a game of chess: a fitting battle of wits among kings.

Russell had made the first move when he had eliminated the Rat and sent Victor charging into the Viking's territory threatening his queen. Unfortunately for Victor, Eric did not respond kindly to threats, which made Madden the first major casualty. Bill Compton would be spared until the very last offensive which was meant to give Russell a false sense of security. Compton was a weak pawn and Eric would not waste his moves trying to take him out before he could drive Russell out of Macau and back into Vegas. The final act was set on the night of the Juan Miguel Marquez-Manny Pacquiao fight at the MGM-Grand in September where Russell would have front row seat of his downfall.

To force Russell out of hiding, Eric must cut his power source and that was when Lawrence Ho would play a crucial role. If he managed to forge an alliance with the Chinese heir then together they would be an indomitable force in Asia.

Eric could almost taste victory at the tip of his tongue. He put down his mobile tablet and steepled his fingers while playing out every strategic moves in his head.

"Did you hear me, Eric?" Pam's irritated voice pulled him out of his elated trance.

Eric slowly lifted his head to look at Pam, quirking his brow questioningly.

"It's Warlow. Sookie's admirer…" she said with a guarded expression. "It's Michael Warlow."

'_Mother. Fucker.' _

Pam definitely had his attention now. His lips thinned before he shot Pam an impatient glare, prodding her to elaborate.

"We saw him last night at The Deuce. It seems like you're not the only one who finds her snark irresistible," Pam shared warily, keeping her voice neutral while she gauged the Viking's reaction.

Eric's jaw tightened. He pulled his phone out and dialed the first number on his speed dial.

* * *

**E/S**

'_She's Eric's.'_

Michael puffed up his chest with air as he scoffed at the very the words that had sent his blood boiling many times in the past. He moved from aisle to aisle spying on her with spiteful eyes. He saw her exiting the North and stalked her town car all the way into a wretched shopping mall downtown. He watched her as she rummaged through a pile of sundresses all the while wincing at her pitiable taste in clothing. No woman of his would be caught dead in a place like this, he thought smugly.

'_She's Eric's.' _ Pamela's words had been gnawing at him all night.

Eric Northman.

The name that was synonymous to a curse for Michael.

The Viking.

The Golden Boy.

Like the sun he couldn't escape nor could he eclipse.

Michael Warlow was supposed to be the sun. _Not Northman_.

But everywhere Northman went, he was treated with a kind of adulation that should only be reserved for the likes of Michael. _He_ was royalty. _He_ came from a long line of dukes in Monaco. _He_ was the one with the blue blood, not some Swedish nouveau riche who started building their empire from sheer brick and mortar.

Michael was the prince poised to take the throne at such a young age. _Not Northman_.

But when Godric croaked and Eric took the helm in his twenties everyone fell to their knees, praised him and branded him Viking. A title that made Michael's appellation, the _Count_, sounded like a cruel joke. He had watched with growing hatred as his salacious cousin fell for Northman's sickening charm when he and his Italian cook were in Monaco.

Michael Warlow was Midas. _Not Northman_.

But it was Northman's magic hand that shook and awed the real estate community. Northman was the man who could turn dust into specks of gold. He was the one who had surpassed expectations and shattered decade-old records. The motherfucker whose fingers could make or break anything he touched.

It was beyond infuriating how Northman was always a few steps ahead of him. Even the fact that Michael's family owned half the casinos in Monte Carlo did not make any difference. Michael Warlow was always a runner-up to Eric Northman.

So Michael put an entire ocean between him and Northman. If he couldn't be the sun then he would settle for the moon. Northman could have Vegas to himself as long as Michael had full control of Monte Carlo.

_He_ was a born ruler. So for the most part of the last ten years that was what he did. He subjugated everything within his realm. He kept their name pristine by inspiring fear into the heart of anyone who would use it so callously. The Warlow name could be heard uttered in hushed tones or resounding blare. Never in between. Never just in passing. Never so casually. Never the way _she_ just did.

'_Good night, _Michael_. I would say it was nice meeting you, but I was raised not to lie,'_ her voice sounded so cold and crisp to his ear. It made him almost wonder if she would break like ice if he poked her.

The surge of hatred he felt toward Northman's tramp was unnerving. Never in his life had he wanted to sully something so simple, so mediocre, so Puritan.

He remembered how she had stared at him with a stolid expression, as though _she_ was too good for _him_. He wondered if she ever looked at Northman that way. Could the iniquitous Viking make her heel? Was she as good as he imagined her to be? Did she prefer it gentle or rough? Could Northman make her come with just his tongue?

Judging by the way Pamela had reacted last night, he knew _she_ was something he would enjoy taking from the Viking. And he would take immense pleasure making her forget Northman ever existed.

He saw her grab two equally horrendous dresses off the rack then make a beeline to the dressing room. His lips curled into a sneer, tingling with anticipation.

'_Déjà vu,'_ he mused recalling their first encounter._ 'Nothing like a dish carved for the gods.' _

The attendant who had been lurking behind him since he had arrived tried to keep her fidgeting to a minimum. He curled his finger, beckoning her toward him and he almost laughed out loud when she practically galloped toward him with cheeks ablaze. He handed her five one-hundred-dollar bills to create a distraction for the Asian guy at the entrance. Michael knew he was part of her security detail. The saleslady seemed apprehensive at first but when Michael added a few more crisp notes, she finally conceded with a conspiratorial wink.

He walked stealthily toward the dressing room, pressing himself close to one of the columns leading to the separate cubicles.

"Hey, you," he heard her chirp and for a second he thought she was addressing him and he almost kicked himself for the euphoria he felt at her cheery voice. Then he saw her pressing her phone close to her ear with her shoulder and his jovial mood vanished replaced by unadulterated revulsion.

"I'm picking out a dress for the wedding. The clothes Pam got for me are not Bon Temps-friendly."

She was holding out a red dress at the mirror while checking her reflection then hung it onto one of the racks beside her. She moved on to the light blue spaghetti strap dress and pressed it to the length of her body.

"You're using that tone again," she hushed chidingly. "Are you mad at me?"

He smiled. _'Ah, trouble in paradise.'_

"Don't mistake my apathy for something else, Eric."

'_Bitch!' _he screamed mentally, scowling at the sheer audacity of the measly peasant.

He heard her sigh. "I don't care who he is."

'_Oh, but you should, you little twat.'_

"Let's talk about it later. I'll meet you at the North after your meeting," she said, barely containing the annoyance in her voice. His frown was turning into another lazy smile. Maybe there was still time to make her change her mind about him.

There was a pregnant pause as she fiddled with the inexpensive fabric of the blue dress. Her shoulders sagged before she drew another breath.

"Wait, Eric… " he heard her continue. She tucked her hair behind her ears and he could finally see her face from her reflection through the mirror. There was something alarming with the way her eyes gleamed with … with… yearning?

'_Fuck! Don't say it!'_

"I love you."

'_Stupid whore!'_

She stared at her lifeless phone for a few seconds longer before she shoved it back to her purse, which was hanging from her shoulder. And for a moment he reveled at the thought that Northman did not say it back.

Those three words were like burning acid on his skin. _'Love?! Eric Northman isn't capable of love!'_

He gathered his composure like an overthrown prince before he stepped out of the post he was hiding. He straightened his jacket and smoothed his unruly brown hair.

"The red one's better. It brings out your lips," he drawled in the sexiest voice he could muster.

She was about to step into one of the changing cubicles when she saw him. He couldn't help but feel a burst of energy when he saw her stiffen and took a sharp breath when she whipped her head in his direction.

To his surprise, she didn't shriek like an oaf or lost her control like a plebe. And damn, if she didn't amaze him even more. She gathered her purse and, with deliberate steps, marched in his direction.

His lips tugged into a smirk before he blocked her path with his arm.

"Am I stuck in a parallel universe where arrogant pricks can just waltz inside the room designed only for women? Or am I too presumptuous to think you're a man?"

His fingers clenched into fists but he tamped down his anger, reminding himself that she was no easy prey. "I didn't think you'd mind, considering how low you're willing to stoop for _him_," he said taking small step toward her. "I must say, that little show you did last night is quite a feat for someone like you. Only forty other women had managed to make out with Eric in public."

He saw her eyes twitch ever so slightly and he savored the fact that he managed to wound her. She gripped the strap of her bag tighter before she tried to shove his arm out of the way. It was a futile effort because he didn't even budge. She thought of ducking under his outstretched arm but he seemed to have read her mind as he twisted his torso to block her path.

"Is that why you stalked me here? To insult me?"

He leered and with his free hand, he procured a black glossy calling card from the breast pocket of his blazer. "I forgot to give you this," he murmured dragging the words out in his velvety voice. He pushed the rectangular card in her palm.

She darted a glance at the card before she looked up to meet his eyes. She snorted before she shoved the card in his jacket pocket. Her fingers accidentally grazed his left nipple under his silk suit and he almost hissed at the contact but fortunately caught himself before he did.

"I don't need it. I already know you number. It's A-S-S H-O-L-E, right?" she said casually with unblinking eyes.

He inched closer, his eyes turning into slits. "What a smart mouth you have," he intoned. _'I wonder how good that mouth would feel against mine, better yet, wrapped around my…'_

His prurient thoughts were interrupted when she tried to push past him again.

He clamped the doorframe tighter. "You do know your days are numbered, right? That you'd get dumped like all the other trash," he taunted, using Northman's overt womanizing to provoke her.

Sookie laughed bitterly. "And do you know what that makes you?" she asked dryly.

He raised his eyebrow.

"A garbage collector."

He gritted his teeth as his fingers flexed at his side, begging for something – or someone - to choke. "You have no idea what I'm capable of," he hissed.

She smirked. "How original," she spat, rolling her eyes. "Let me stop you right there before you embarrass yourself even more. Whatever cliché you're thinking of using on me, it ain't gonna work. I've heard them all before and with better delivery, if I do say so myself. So why don't you just move your arm and let me go before I run out of patience and -"

"Call Eric?" he finished in a mocking tone. "You think he'll drop everything and run to your rescue?"

"Don't say his name," she snapped through clenched jaw. "You have no right. You're not even good enough to scoop his crap."

He wasn't sure if it were the blatant insult or the haughtiness in her tone or the way she thrust her chin up as though he was beneath her that pushed him over the edge. His eyes darkened as he gripped both her shoulders and slammed her back against the wall, knocking over the portable clothes' rack beside them. His fingers dug into her shoulder and his cuff links nicked her soft skin.

He saw her eyes widen in terror and for a fleeting moment he felt the warm ripple of triumph under his fingers. Then just as he was about to devour her lips to make her swallow every derogatory words she flung at him, everything turned white. A sharp bolt of pain shot up from his groin all the way to his chest making his knees buckle. She managed to scramble out of his grip as his hands flew to his crotch.

"Touch me again and I will rip your dick out and shove it up your ass!" he heard her yell before she scampered out of dressing room and disappeared from his sight.

* * *

**E/S**

'_Don't feel like going out tonight. Dinner at home instead? I'll cook. Any request?'_

Eric had been reading the same message for the past half hour. He was still at the Luxor with Lawrence Ho and the rest of the board members. The Ho heir had been agreeable to the Viking's suggestions and demands. They were set to finalize the expansion of the North next week after Eric got back from Louisiana. Because Eric would be gone for three days, he needed all the details of the contract hashed out for the corporate lawyers.

He couldn't discern what was wrong with her message but he was certain there was something amiss. It seemed as though she was overcompensating for something. And it was making him uneasy.

He knew he needed to go.

He collected his mobile phone and tablet from the conference table and bolted out of his swivel chair. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry but I have to excuse myself. There's something exigent that needs my attention," he said in his business tone. He turned to the Chinese man in a crisp charcoal suit that resembled the one he was wearing. "Lawrence, it was a pleasure doing business with you. I'd like to discuss the minutae further after I get back from my trip."

Lawrence Ho also stood up from his chair along with the other members. That was common courtesy every time the Viking enters or leaves the room. The kind of deference only Eric could summon.

The Asian businessman shook Eric's extended hand. "I'll be stuck in Hong Kong next week, Eric. Do you mind flying to Macau to meet with me and my father? That way we can survey the area in Taipa."

Eric took a minute to consider his request. Russell was still in Macau and it would be inevitable that they would cross paths. It wasn't part of his plan. But if he wanted to cause major damage in Russell's resources he must do whatever it takes to monopolize the entire Asian market.

"I'll be there," Eric finally conceded. The unsettling feeling at the pit of his stomach was getting insistent. "I'll have Pam set up a meeting with you through your assistant."

Then with long, calculated steps he was out of the board room, summoning enough restraint not to break into a run.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie drew her knees close to her chest as she let the water wash away all traces of Michael from her body. She managed to keep herself together when she dashed out of the dressing room, leaving the asshole slouched and writhing painfully inside. With her cool façade intact she asked Kibwe and Cho to bring her to Spring Valley instead of driving her back to the North. She didn't trust herself not to crumble in front of Eric. Not just yet.

She sent him a quick message while she kept herself occupied in the kitchen. She managed to gab with Marcia, the head housekeeper, while she whipped out her Gran's meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes. Marcia insisted to help her but she graciously turned down her offer. She needed a distraction. Badly. She wanted to forget everything about the evil bastard who almost got his way with her. She hated the amount of willpower it took her not to shiver at the thought of his filthy hands on her.

After she had scrubbed every pans and plates, ignoring Marcia's scared pleas, she went up the room and drew herself a bath.

The sound of the car horn blaring furiously outside the wrought iron gates made Sookie's legs buckle and slide into the tub, making her slip under the water. With frantic movements she fumbled for the side grip and got out of the porcelain tub.

She was certain it was Eric.

And by the noise outside she knew she only had a few minutes before he could make it into their upstairs bedroom.

It was a good thing she had already picked out her clothes. She settled for a white buttoned down long sleeves that she folded up to her elbows and a faded denim shorts.

She tied her wet hair in a loose chignon before she sprinted out of the bedroom to meet him downstairs.

"Hey! You're just in time," she piped merrily as she padded down the stairs.

Eric had just taken off his jacket and was loosening the tie around his neck when she went up to him and planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I hope you're hungry. Marcia said you don't like meatloaf but I think my Gran's recipe will be able to change your mind," she said hurriedly, gripping his wrist and pulling him toward the kitchen. "It's still in the oven. I'll just heat it up. Don't worry it passed quality control. And by quality control, I really meant Marcia." She winked at him before she ushered him to the barstool beside the countertop that was located at the middle of the sprawling kitchen.

"How did your meeting go?" she asked, her back was on him as she tinkered with the oven buttons.

She was talking a mile a minute, asking him trivial questions without waiting for a response. She didn't care if he had not spoken one word since he got in. All that mattered was that she needed to keep talking, to do something because she knew if she stopped even for just one minute, she would crack and it would not go unnoticed. Not by him.

She stood on her tiptoes and opened a cupboard above the sink, procuring two wine glasses. Then she chose a bottle of Pinot Noir and started decanting it by the sink. She could feel his eyes tracking her every move as she kept her back to him.

'_Breathe,'_ she instructed herself. _'One… Two... Three… Fo-'_

The strong arms that circled her waist made her recoil, causing her to drop both the bottle and the crystal decanter. Eric pulled her back purely on instinct but it was a second too late because the crimson liquid had already spattered on her crisp white blouse.

"What's wrong with you?" Eric asked brusquely as he whisked her to face him. Sheer annoyance was etched on his face with his eyebrows drawn together. "Why are you so nervous?"

Sookie swallowed thickly. "Nothing. I told you I'm always nervous."

She forced herself to smile before she lowered her gaze on her stained shirt. "I'll just change, okay? Don't touch that. I'll clean it up later," she said keeping her stupid smile plastered on her face as she tried to pry herself out of Eric's grasp.

He hesitated for a moment before he finally let her go. She jogged toward the bedroom, her feet barely touching the cold marble floor.

She was in such haste that she didn't feel Eric following her closely.

She unclasped the buttons of her blouse, cursing her clumsiness over and over, and peeled it off before she went to the sink to wash the red wine that seeped through the fabric and clung onto the skin of her stomach.

The soft buzzing of Eric's phone vibrating inside his pants' pocket caught Sookie's attention.

"Eric! You scared the shit out of me!" she yelled.

Eric didn't shift as he leaned at the threshold of the bathroom. He continued to stare at her with a blank expression as he took his phone out and checked the caller's name.

"What?" was his curt greeting.

Sookie felt the air grew thick and taut. She felt the cold air from the air-conditioner and realized she was only wearing her lacy bra. Goosebumps broke across her skin and she quickly marched toward the walk-in closet across the bathroom. But before she could exit the bathroom, Eric held out his index finger to stop her.

Eric's features remain stoic as he kept the phone to his ear.

"Where is he?" he asked the person on the other line, his voice was gravelly and tightly guarded. He pressed his lips together into a straight line.

Sookie tried to hold his gaze but it was like staring at the sun. It was undoable.

She lowered her head shifting her eyes to his black leather shoes while her arms snake across her taut belly.

After a few more excruciating seconds, he ended the call with a terse, "keep me informed," then he chucked his phone back in his pocket.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked in a clipped tone. _The_ tone.

Sookie moistened her lips with her tongue before she jutted her chin to look him in the eyes. "Nothing I couldn't handle," she replied primly, trying to give him the quelling look with all her fragile strength.

Eric remained impassive as they engaged each other into one of their staring contests. Sookie knew she needed to salvage the situation before it could escalate into a catastrophic level. She had an inkling what that call was about but she didn't want to aggravate him even more.

She managed to hold herself together, right?

She made a grown man who tried to corner her like a panther whimper like a kitten, right?

So the point of throwing in Eric into the mix would be moot.

Right? How come everything felt wrong?

The second ticked away silently with both of them refusing to falter.

Then it happened.

His eyes left hers as he raked over her form. It didn't take long for him to notice it. The horizontal slit – that appeared like a welt- at her right upper arm from the sharp edge of the MW cuff links of one Michael Warlow.

He lifted her other arm by the elbow, verifying his suspicion. There was an identical line and at closer inspection he could make out a faint red bruise over the scratch.

"Eric…" Sookie started her voice croaking. She sucked in a deep breath as she grasped for the right words.

The Viking's hands trembled as he loosened his grip on her elbow.

Sookie never got to utter another word before Eric fled the room.

He didn't need to say anything. The look on his face said it all.

He was a man about to make his first kill.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own TB or Eric.**

**Thoughts? I'll try to post another chapter before the craziness of the Lunar New Year sucks me in.**

**Thank you so much for reading and sending me feedback. They brighten my day. **

**Love. Love. Love! **


	34. Chapter 34

Michael hopped off the bed and grabbed his trousers off the carpeted floor. He put them on before he marched into the bar in the adjacent room of his suite, leaving the naked blonde sprawled on his bed.

"Baby, c'mon we can try it again," the sweet syrupy voice of the blonde, who was hugging him from behind, grated at his nerves. He whisked his body around and seized the poor girl's arm.

The unclothed hooker winced when he tightened his grip and forced her down on her knees.

Her attractive features contorted as she groaned in pain. "You're hurting me."

"That's the point."

"You'll have to pay extra for this, asshole!" she spat as Michael dug his nails on her flesh, grinding at the bone.

His eyebrows shot up before he lowered himself to level his face with her. "What did you say?"

"You didn't pay me enough to hurt me!" she cried.

"No. Not that. The name you called me," he intoned, stroking her cheek tenderly.

The blonde escort recoiled from his touch.

"Say it!" he bellowed, yanking her arm with brute force.

"Asshole," she cried in a timid voice, not sure if it were the magic word he was asking for.

He closed his eyes languidly relishing the stirring of his manhood that he thought had forever been impaired by Sookie's knee.

"Again!" he growled.

The woman drew her brows together in confusion as she heaved deeply, making her exposed bosoms rise and fall.

"Say it again!" he yelled to her face when she kept mum.

"Asshole!" she wailed squeezing her eyes shut.

He stood to his full height before he unzipped his fly and dropped his pants. He grabbed the whore off the floor and whisked her around. He was still wearing protection from the slut's failed attempt to get him up.

It had taken him quite a while to get his bearings back after Northman's stupid little tramp's stunt that had left him writhing in agony in the dressing room. He had gone straight to his suite at the Four Seasons, livid and limping. He had asked his assistant to procure a high-end escort for him. He had to be certain that Northman's fucking bitch did not cause permanent damage.

The first girl was a brunette. But after a good half hour of fruitless service he had sent her away and decided to satiate his desire for the girl with the cornhusk hair.

It wasn't until she hurled that word at him: _Asshole_. The same name Sookie had called him over and over was the derogatory noun that made his flaccid organ spring back into action.

_'I will have you soon, bitch.'  
_  
The loud whimpering of the woman curved in front of him pulled him out his troubling musings. Without so much as a warning he rammed inside her from behind pushing her back to arch even lower before he gripped her hips and started pounding into her. He shut his eyes as he let his mind wander to Northman's whore. Soon she would be the one under him instead of the defective proxy who was moaning like the professional slut that she was.

_'Soon, Sookie.'_

He growled as he thrust. Picturing the spiteful blonde who only had eyes for Northman. What a degenerate he had become, Michael thought rancorously. Lusting over the woman who loved the man he despised the most. _'When did I become a fucking masochist?'_

He slammed into the prostitute one more time as he came inside her with a grunt. _'Sookie!'_

He didn't bother to ask if the woman he had used as substitute for his twisted fantasy had reached her own climax before he pulled away from her. He discarded the soiled condom in the bin inside the en suite bath and caught a glimpse of the hooker's clothes piled beside the foot of the bed.

He watched her grab his gray silk shirt and draped it over her nakedness. He ground his teeth and snatched her scanty red dress and black thong off the floor before he sauntered back to the bar. He dropped them at her feet before he reached for a glass and poured himself a drink.

The courtesan, to her credit, was quick to take the hint as she scampered to the bathroom and got dressed. She was out of the room even before Michael finished his brandy.

What started as entertainment was becoming a noxious game that was not only consuming him but was also putting him in treacherous ground with Northman. The Viking's unorthodox method of retribution was something Michael did not plan to experience firsthand. He knew he had to get out of Vegas soon. He didn't know how much time he had left before Northman finds out – if he hadn't already – what happened between him and Sookie earlier.

The shrill humming of the phone in his room interrupted his sordid thoughts. He let it ring four more times before he picked it up.

"Warlow," he answered gruffly.

"Good evening, Michael." He heard a woman with a bored tone drawl. _'Guess I need not wonder anymore.'  
_  
"What do you want, Pamela?"

"Could you turn on your television and tune in to channel 14?" she asked.

"Why?" he countered while his eyes darted around the room to look for the remote control. _'What are you up to Northman?'  
_  
"Just do it," she snapped with a loud exasperated sigh.

He reached for the remote at the center table and started sifting through the channels. Anxiety was becoming a prominent emotion inside him as he pushed the buttons.

_'Putain! _(Fuck!)'

He could feel the blood leaving his face as he watched the footage of him and Sookie inside the fitting room with increasing horror. He leaped out of the sofa and staggered toward the television as the humiliating came on like an unfunny satire.

_'Merde!'_

"That one right there's my favorite part!" Pam exclaimed through the other line. "It's a shame the surveillance camera has no audio." He heard Pam murmur followed by a dry chuckle.

Michael's mind was racing. The useless saleslady had sold him out to Northman.

"You have 30 minutes to get your ass out of Vegas, _Count_," were Pam's last words before she hung up.

Michael gave a yell of frustration before he flung the remote control across the room. Not a minute later one of his guards barged into the room, evidently disgruntled. _"Monsieur, nous devons partir maintenant! _(Sir, we have to leave now!)."

He scooped his shirt and dinner jacket off the bed before he exited his suite without another word.

His security detail, consisting of four uniformed guards, ushered him into one of the private elevators that would lead them straight through the backdoor reserved for VIP guests who valued extreme discretion.

He fastened the last button of his shirt before he hastily tucked it inside his pants. They entered the basement parking lot where the black stretch limousine with the red, blue and white license tag - indicative of a diplomatic plate – was waiting idly for him. An unmarked black SUV was parked behind it which was reserved for his sentry.

It appeared that the concierge had raised the red flag when one of Northman's guards came in the hotel asking for Michael's whereabouts. He couldn't help but smile appreciatively. _'It really pays to be a Warlow.'  
_  
A large dark-haired man in a black and white suit, with a telltale bulge of an automatic pistol under his jacket, opened his door for him. Michael folded himself in and as soon as the guard heard the limo door lock, the head of Warlow's security started sprinting to the SUV as part of the Count's convoy.

That was how Michael travelled. Alone with the chauffeur. His inflated ego had forbidden him to share his vehicle with his servants – even those who were paid to keep him alive.

As he leaned his back into the black leather seat, he found himself regretting his decision to dismiss his guards. Because the next thing he saw was a pair of cold blue eyes staring at him with nothing but uncontained hatred.

* * *

**E/S**

"Leaving so soon?" Eric said in a sing-song voice as he leaned indolently opposite the jackass, whose face was a laughable shade of gray.

The Viking's lips contorted into a smirk as he watched the fucker fumble for the knob of his door. Right on cue, the lock snapped shut before the car started moving forward.

"Do you really think you can get out of this town unscathed?" Eric asked as he bent forward.

Warlow forced himself to appear unaffected by quirking his eyebrow. "What exactly is your plan, Eric? You know you can't touch me. I have state immunity," was his weak rebuttal.

A hollow chuckle erupted from the Viking's chest. "Immunity, you say?" He sighed before he gave him a look of mock derision. "You must have forgotten, Count, here _l'etat c'est moi (_I am the state)."

Michael countered with a feeble chortle as he wagged his index finger at the Viking. "No, no, no, Eric. You're the one with the faulty memory. Unlike you with your false sense of entitlement, _I _am an actual royalty."

_'Ah, the royalty card,' _Eric thought. He almost rolled his eyes at Michael's declaration that sounded so banal and trite and that had been used explicitly like bad porn in the past.

Eric ran the pad of his thumb along his lower lip as he grinned wolfishly.

"Funny you mentioned that. I was just discussing it with Luca when I called him earlier."

Luca was Michael's eldest brother. The first born of the brood of three of Prince Albert and Princess Caroline of Monaco - and the first in line to take the throne when Albert decided to step down. Michael was a far second as the second born.

Luca was the antithesis of Michel – Michael was the Americanized version the Count had adopted whenever he was out of Monte Carlo. The elder Warlow was the epitome of the perfect prince. His work for the North Pole - to save the maritime ecosystem and slow down global warming – was legendary. It had put the royal family in good light all over Europe, thus making him ripe for the crown.

But what most people didn't know was Luca, like all Warlows, could be vicious when he felt his throne was being threatened. Unlike Michael, who was mercurial and violent, Luca was methodical and ruthless. Just like Eric.

And as the old saying: birds of a feather… Luca and Eric had flocked together. They had forged an unspoken comradeship that had started roughly seven years ago when Eric attended the opening of Monte-Carlo Bay Hotel and Resorts in 2005 - six months after Godric had died.

The amity that existed between Eric and Luca was convoluted but genuine. And Michael knew it too damn well.

Michael managed to keep his poker face intact, but the slight tightening of his jaw betrayed him.

"You know, the thing about royalty, Michael, is that they must project a noble front at all times. While some men can flaunt their misconduct in public without the fear of being nailed to the cross, some men - such as monarchs - have reputations to protect."

Michael's eyes widened. He could hear the deafening chugging of the train that was going to run him over. And Eric almost wished for some canned laughter to go with the bastard's predictable reaction. It was like watching a mouse try to decide which turn to take to get out of an intricate labyrinth.

Eric stretched his legs in front of him, crossing his ankles, before he reached for the vintage Macallan at the mini bar instead of the jigger-sized liquor that came with the luxury vehicle.

_'Only the best for the prince,' _the Viking thought in disdain.

Eric didn't bother with a glass as he took a swig of the expensive scotch. He stopped himself from wincing at the delicious burn of the five-decade-old liquor as it sloshed inside his mouth and warmed his throat. He would not let the fucker see any kind of emotion from him.

Eric took another sip as he stared at the dismal man. When the Viking felt that the silence had tortured the bastard long enough, he revealed his trump card.

"Care to guess how many phone calls it took me to strip you of your title?" Eric's voice dropped low before he raised his forefinger. "One."

It didn't matter if Eric had whispered the words or shouted them out loud. He was certain the fucker wouldn't miss a single syllable. The Viking didn't think anyone could blanch even more, but the duke of dicks proved him wrong.

Finally, summoning enough strength, Michael met Eric's hard stare and leered. "Luca doesn't have the authority to do that." The subtle croaking of his voice made Eric's smirk broke into a toothy, taunting, smile.

"Luca doesn't. But Prince Albert does," Eric crooned, taking another drag of the sinful whiskey. "Who do you think the Prince will listen to? His rightful heir or the prodigal son?"

Michael's fists curled at his sides, causing Eric to wonder if Michael would jump at him. The Viking silently wished Michael would. It would make it easy for him to bash the asshole's head at the window of the moving car. But the pompous ass wanted to salvage whatever dignity he had left as he uncoiled his fingers and thrust his chin up.

"I understand your confusion, Eric, since you have no concept of family. But my clan will never turn their back on me," Michael spat with a smirk as he crossed his legs, mirroring the Viking's stance in an effort to seem unperturbed.

Eric laughed - the kind that was meant only to mock. He grabbed the manila envelope that was lying beside him and tossed it to Michael.

The Count caught the envelope with ease and gauged it like a ticking bomb. He glared at the Viking who only gestured for him to open it.

With apprehension he unfurled the package. In it were a dozen black and white photos of him and Bill Compton that were taken last night when they had met at the tarmac.

"It's really quite clever of you to use your diplomatic immunity to smuggle narcotics from Vegas into Monaco. It makes sense since no custom official would dare poke his nose inside an aristocrat's baggage. You could have chosen a better accomplice, though, I'd never trust Bill Compton to get me my morning coffee, but that's just me."

It was a stroke of luck that Eric uncovered Michael's illegal dealings with Compton last night. Since Eric had men tailing Compton, all of Bill's activities were being recorded and passed onto Roman. After Pam had informed him of Michael's interest with Sookie, anything that concerned Michael Warlow became top priority.

Eric was saving Compton's illicit drug trade, under Edgington's orders, for the final act of the Kabuki play, but the involvement of Warlow made the Viking rethink his game plan in Operation Raven.

"Your dealings with Edgington could have flown past my radar if you hadn't decided to fuck with what is mine," Eric continued, his veneer of nonchalance showing little cracks at the thought of the woman he had left at home.

He pushed all thoughts of Sookie in a deep compartment in his mind. He didn't want her distracting him. The second he saw her bruises all he could think of was his inefficacy to protect her. How could he expect to defend her from Russell Edgington if he couldn't even keep her safe from a snake like Michael Warlow?

The usually meticulous Eric had lost all semblance of discipline when he practically flew out of their Spring Valley mansion like a man with a tunnel vision. And all he could see was a French prince hanging upside down at the end of that tunnel. As he and Roman made their way back to the North, he had wondered fleetingly how much it would cost him to murder a prince.

Back at the North they had watched the surveillance tape that the negligent sales attendant had delivered to Pam. It was the saleslady's effort to redeem herself after she had recognized Sookie from the tape and from the morning paper.

As the distance grew between him and his recalcitrant lover, he found he could breathe normally again. Once lucid, Eric had decided that death would be too good for the motherfucking prince. It was fairly easy to orchestrate an accident in the desert. But Michael Warlow deserved something more complicated than that.

He had to suffer. Michael had to feel the kind of powerlessness Eric had felt when the Viking saw the marks Warlow had left on Sookie.

And there was nothing Michael Warlow loved more than his own name.

"These are all circumstantial," Michael spat, shoving the enlarged photos back in the envelope.

Eric smiled. Michael was playing his role superbly as though he was reading straight from a script. A script Eric had written in his head while he was waiting for Warlow to get down from his suite. Eric snatched a little black book from the inner pocket of his jacket. He took his time leafing through the flaps before he started reading the names scribbled on it.

"Do you want me continue?" Eric asked. In his hand was the long line of names of high profile personalities – from oligarchs to monarchs – who were depending on Michael for their specific fix. Be it a simple hallucinogen or an elaborate cocktail of analgesics. Eric whistled. "This is quite a list you've got here."

Michael, as predictable as he was, had kept a list of his clienteles in a small black ledger he always kept inside his blazer. He didn't trust anybody to hold it for him. In his rush to check his dick's mobility earlier he had forgotten his foremost rule when he had let the prostitute undress him. The blonde escort, who was arranged by Pam, had been very efficient in obtaining the ledger for Eric. They knew the egotistic Michael would not pay mind to the seemingly dumb plumbing service in a pretty package. Oh, how he had mistaken.

The sight of the logbook sparked an instant reaction from Michael. He lunged at Eric and stabbed his hand in the air in his attempt to yank the book from the Viking. But Eric was quicker as he sprung from his seat and caught Michael by the throat. The Viking slammed Michael back in his seat, his face inches from the deposed prince.

"Make another move and you'll be going back to Monte Carlo in a body bag, asshole," Eric hissed while he squeezed Michael's neck a little at a time while he pinned him down with his knees on Michael's thighs. "Ginger told me you like it when she calls you asshole." The Viking shook his head in disgust. "You are one sick son of a bitch."

Michael tried to pry Eric's fingers off his neck but his struggling only stoked up Eric's desire to inflict more pain. Mercifully, the car slowed down to a halt and the door was torn open by one of Michael's guards. Eric finally released the bastard as he retreated to his seat opposite Michael.

Warlow beamed when he saw the familiar face of his sentry. "What are you standing there for, fool? Get him!" he barked as he jabbed a long finger at Eric.

The head of Michael's security bent his head, extended his huge arms and reached inside the limousine. The smile that was forming at the side of Michael's lips disappeared when he felt the vise-like grip of his guard around his upper arm. He shrieked like a banshee as a hulk of a man dragged him out of the spacious vehicle.

A long line of profanities in Warlow's mother tongue cut through the air as he flailed his arms frantically in the middle of the hangar of McCarran airport.

Eric slid out of the car and followed the deranged captive. He straightened his jacket and ran his fingers through his hair. He clucked his tongue in an apprehending manner when he was only a few steps away from Warlow. "I would be very careful with my choice of words if I were you, especially when they can easily throw you out of the jet."

Michael shot daggers at the mute sentry who was holding him in place. "You work for me!"

"They work for _the _prince. Not some jackass who likes to pretend as one," Eric said melodiously. "They will escort you back to Cote d' Azur where you will be arrested for treason for using your sovereign immunity for personal gain. You will be tried as a commoner because no monarch will ever touch you again. You will have no money, no title, no connection and no name."

Beads of cold sweat appeared on Michael's forehead as his eyes tried to scour his surrounding, searching for a possible exit route. There were only seven other men at the hangar –his four uniformed guards, the Viking's Grecian security and the chauffeur who got out of the limo.

Eric smiled and tucked his hands in his pockets before he swaggered toward the disgruntled quasi prince.

"Do you realize how pathetic you look?" Eric intimated as he flashed his lopsided smirk. "Tell you what, Michael, I'll let you run. Hell, I'll even give you a head start. But make no mistake, if you run and stay in American soil, you'll be hunted down as a fugitive not only by the DEA but by me. And when I find you, I'll make sure not even Princess Caroline will be able to identify your remains. And no one can blame me for using whatever force I deem appropriate for apprehending a criminal. You see, win-win, for me."

The wretched Count scowled as he hissed out another set of curses. A schadenfreude smile broke across Eric's unruffled features as he stared at the son of a whore who had tried to stab him in the back. What the fucker didn't know was when Eric plunged a knife he would never forget to twist.

Michael tried his best to look unfazed but it was a hard thing to pull off when his hands were shaking like a leaf. His hands balled into fists and he shoved them inside his pockets. Eric was right, there was no way out for him now. He lowered his head in defeat and the guard behind him took that as his cue as he pivoted the humiliated Count toward the royal jet.

Just when Eric was pacing back toward the awaiting limo, Michael turned his back to face him. "Did she cry?" Warlow hollered, his lips twisting into a cold sneer.

Eric's response was instantaneous. In a few long strides, he was in front of the asshole, who didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. He clamped his hands on both sides of Michael's broad shoulder before he leaned in and whispered in a voice that was dripping with venom.

"Cry?" He snorted. "She didn't even think you're worthy of dinner conversation. I doubt she even remembers your name, fucker," Eric snarled. "Her apathy towards you is the only thing that stops me from putting a bullet between your eyes. This... is just my way of teaching you a lesson. And this-" His knee connected to Michael's groin, making the Count howl in pain. He let go of Michael and the has-been monarch dropped to his knees and grabbed his crotch for the second time that day.

"- is to make sure you won't forget." With that Eric marched back to the stretch limo where Roman was waiting for him behind the wheel. He watched with satisfaction as Michael gets scooped up from the concrete ground and lugged into the private aircraft Eric was certain Michael would be riding for the last time.

_'Now for the hard part,' _the Viking thought with a sigh before he folded himself into the car and told Roman to bring him to Spring Valley.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric or TB.**

**Gong xi fa cai! Hopefully the snakes will bring us luck this year!**

**Love. Love. Love!**


	35. Chapter 35

Eric ran his tongue across his lips and tasted the bitterness of the vintage scotch he just had. _'Shit.'_

Sookie didn't like it when he drinks. She had been nagging him about his unhealthy lifestyle and how his drinking habit would be the death of him. He huffed sharply in the inanity of it, she probably hadn't realized it yet but she was the poison that was going to kill him someday.

'_Choose your poison and own your death.' _

Eric massaged the back of his neck as he climbed the winding staircase that led to their bedroom two steps at a time.

He badly needed another shot, he thought as he paused in front of the door that separated him from his poison. Just one more shot to drown the dull ache in his chest.

He turned his head from side to side like a boxer who was about to enter the ring. There would be a fight. That he was certain of, the intensity of it was what he was bracing himself for. He knew he had acted irrationally – purely out of primal instinct triggered by his unnatural possessiveness toward his lover who was as stubborn as fuck.

But she wasn't entirely blameless either, he debated internally. If only she had told him what had happened between her and that fucktarded prince maybe he would not have blown a gasket like he did.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he imagined his alter ego shooting him the bird at that last thought. He was fooling no one. He would have overreacted anyway. He wondered what it was about her that could bring out extreme emotions from him.

'_Must be love,'_ he thought with an apprehensive smile.

'_Fucking, stupid love.'_

He sucked in a deep breath before he turned the brass knob gently and entered the room with heavy steps.

His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. The main lights were switched off in their enormous bedchamber. The bedside lamp and the fluorescent inside the walk-in closet were the only things providing little illumination. It didn't take him long to spot her. She was standing with her back to him, staring at the large picture window that overlooked the back garden. She was wearing the same pair of shorts she had on when he had left her and a white lacy tank top that made her seem ethereal under the glimmer of the muted lighting.

She turned to face him, a heavy crystal glass of whiskey in hand.

His eyebrow quirked. "You're drinking?"

She shrugged as she marched toward him.

"Need something to calm me down."

'_Twisted minds think alike.'_

"I don't know why you like this stuff so much. It tastes horrible," she quipped nonchalantly as she placed the glass on the bedside table before she continued advancing toward him until they were only a foot apart. "Did you send Jake home?"

Her tone wasn't accusatory or demanding. It was clinical, as though she was asking him if he had remembered to buy milk on his way home.

Eric nodded, studying her with a wary expression. Inevitably Cho and Kibwe were terminated. They only had two jobs: To keep an eye on her and ward off douchebags. They failed on both accounts. He had zero tolerance when it came to her. They _had_ to know that. Jake Purifoy was called away from Tony's side to stand as interim guard for Sookie while Roman was looking for Kibwe and Cho's replacements.

He took a couple of steps to close their gap, weaving his fingers through his hair.

'_Nervous tick. Check,' _he mused as he tried to come up with the appropriate opener to get the ball rolling.

He would choose humiliating a prince any day than have a heart-to-heart with her. He wasn't equipped for this. For _her_. Women like Sookie should come with a warning and a manual.

He heard her let out a pocket of breath as though she had been holding hers the way he was holding his.

"Pam called. She told me everything," she muttered as she fiddled with the thick fabric of her shorts, obviously trying to avoid eye contact.

_'At least someone was providing full disclosure,'_ Eric thought as he recalled Pam's call that shed light on Sookie's erratic behavior earlier. _  
_

On the way to Spring Valley, Eric had received a call from Luca informing him of Michael's impending arrest. Because Michael was still technically a part of the ruling family, he could not be convicted in Monte Carlo. He would be taken from Cote d' Azur to Andorra la Vella via helicopter. As per Prince Albert's request, Michael's arrest would not be made public to spare the family of the scandal. But every single person on Michael's list would be questioned, discreetly of course, and would be made aware of the asshole's demise.

Michael would be convicted for drug trafficking and was expected to serve five to ten years at the Comella prison in Andorra. Eric wanted Michael to be incarcerated in France (since French jails had the worst reputation all over Europe) but Luca – on behalf of Princess Caroline – vetoed it.

Andorra would have to suffice. Eric could not allow Michael to do his time in Monaco where he would get princely treatment in his cell. Besides, Monaco's penal institution was a laughingstock of all jailhouses – it was more of a hostel than a slammer.

Bill Compton, on the other hand, would not be arrested. _Yet_. The DEA, under Eric's advisement, would be digging up more dirt to build an airtight case against him and Russell Edgington - a case, strong enough, where bail would not be an option. With everything Eric had against Edgington, Michael's testimony against Russell would only be a toy in a cereal box for the DEA. Eric was only biding his time before he went for the jugular.

It was like committing the perfect crime. It had to look like an accident. An accident that everyone knew it wasn't but no one had the proof to say otherwise. Timing was vital. If Eric pulled it off, Sookie would be free and Edgington would no longer be a threat in Vegas and anywhere in the world. But if he fucked it up, he would lose everything. He would lose _her_.

Eric stared at her for a long time. _'No. Losing is completely off the table. It just fucking isn't.'_

Sookie tucked her hair between her ears as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about that asshole," she muttered, lowering her gaze on the floor.

_'Asshole?'_ Eric noted mentally. _'So that's why he's so fond of being called asshole.'_

He thought of how much restraint he had exercised earlier and how much he wished he had given the duke of dicks a jab at the jaw for the road.

"Why didn't you?"

An awkward lull blanketed the room.

He took one more step toward her but he caught something from his periphery that paralyzed him momentarily. At the corner of the dressing room were two black hard-shell luggage, standing idly, mocking him.

His jaw set and his throat tightened. He gulped before he schooled his features to remain blank although there was nothing plain with what he was feeling. Of course she would leave him, he thought. She would be a fool not to. Not after the way he had left her without even asking if she were alright.

He directed his eyes at the adjoining dressing area and shot the bags a vicious glare willing the inanimate objects to cower and make themselves scarce.

Sookie did not need to follow his gaze, she was aware of the reason that made the air thicken.

"What's with the bags? You're leaving?" he queried in the steadiest voice he could muster. He would have said, 'You're leaving _me_?' but he stopped himself. If he lashed out again she would definitely go on the defensive and they would be back to where they started. He wanted answers. Confirmation of his fear.

It was her turn to reply with a curt nod.

"And? You waited for me to say goodbye? Or to see if I'm going to stop you?" he asked bitingly.

He saw her lower lip quiver before she bit it. After a while she whispered, "We need to talk." She snatched his wrist and back pedalled toward the couch.

_'_We need to talk_. Just what every man wanted to hear. Fucking peachy.'_

She sat down on the mauve chaise lounge a few feet across the bed. She placed his hand on her lap and put hers over it. He sank at the edge of the couch, making a conscious effort not to sit too close to her.

She swallowed as the pad of her thumb traced the outline of his beautiful hand. "Do you know what a dowsing rod is, Eric?" she asked after a while.

He didn't reply nor move.

She sighed before she resumed. "It's a Y-shaped wood used to detect water or oil underground back in the day. Then as the years passed by its purpose got pretty dark. They said it also has the ability to unearth evil. My gran said she had been called a dowsing – or divining - rod when she was young because of her knack at attracting bad men. She said - unfortunately for me - I had inherited that trait. Jason and I called it the Stackhouse curse."

Eric couldn't help but throw a sideway glance at her at the mention of the infamous Stackhouse curse. He hadn't told her he had overheard her talking to her brother about that particular topic. He thought he would revisit that topic in an opportune time.

Sookie kept her head bowed. "Ever since I was a little girl I've been called a magnet of doom. I always get into fights and most of the time I go home with cuts and bruises. Jason would be my constant savior. He would morph into a hulk and beat anyone who was dumb enough to get caught."

Eric felt something wet and cold prick the back of his hand and he realized those were her tears. He wanted so much to cup her face and wipe her cheeks dry but he steeled his nerves and waited for her to continue.

"Two years ago, I had a late night shift at Lafayette's and some of the local drunks got extra frisky. I fought them off and ran back home. Lala banned them from the bar. Jason didn't think banishment was enough and confronted them. He was caught off guard when the punks called for back-up." She cleared her throat audibly, choking back a sob. "He was barely breathing when they left him. The bastards were caught the next day when Alcide overheard them brag about the incident in a convenience store."

Her forehead pinched as she sniffed silently. She was singing yet another sad song.

"Jason dislocated his shoulder, fractured two ribs and broke his nose. He was in the hospital for three weeks." She heaved in an effort to stabilize her breathing before she continued. "I almost lost him, Eric. I almost lost the only family I have left because I wasn't strong enough to fight my own battles."

Sookie finally let go of Eric's hand as she buried her face in her hands.

"He said it was his job to protect me. But it _wasn't_. He wasn't supposed to play superman every single time. It was his job to stay alive for me. To not leave me," she mumbled haltingly before she dragged another deep breath and looked up to meet Eric's gaze. "The same rule applies to you, Eric, because whether you like it or not, _you're_ my family now. I can't lose you. I just can't."

Eric let her words wash over him as he slid closer to her to cradle her cheeks.

"Every time you talk about Russell, I'm filled with this overwhelming guilt because I know I'm bringing this much shit in your life." Eric made a soft shushing sound. But she shook her head 'no'.

"Every time some bitch like Nora or some asshole like Michael tell me I'm not good enough for you I start to panic... I get frightened that you might hear them and you'll realize that you _do_ deserve someone better. Someone without so much baggage - who doesn't attract trouble like I do," Sookie hushed before she hid her face in the crook of his neck. "I love you, Eric. I don't want you to think I'm a burden. I don't want you to grow tired of saving my ass."

Eric couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of her sentiment. Didn't she know that he would go through hell and back for her?

"Sookie, Sookie, my silly little Sookie. I will never get tired of saving your sweet ass," he hummed, grinning widely when he felt her smiling against his neck.

"I'm serious, Eric." She slapped his chest lightly, laughing a little at his bon mot.

He caught her wrist and kissed it. He lifted her chin up with his knuckle before he kissed her temple. "So am I." His voice turned solemn. "I'm sorry for going off half-cocked like that. I wasn't thinking. I couldn't think clearly when it comes to you. And you are not weak. Far from it. Do you know what I see whenever I look at you?"

She didn't offer a response, thinking it was a rhetorical question.

"I don't see a Southern bumpkin. Not anymore. I see a hunter. Someone who's not afraid of taking on someone as maniacal as Russell Edgington. Someone who's not intimidated by power or money. _Someone who loves fiercely_. Do you know why I decided to take on Russell now and not seven years ago? Because I've got myself a formidable ally. Because I know you have my back. We're a team," he said kissing her cheek softly. "That's why I can't accept your fucked up logic that I'm not supposed to protect you."

Her lips parted to protest but Eric's mouth cut her off. He crushed his lips against hers, nipping at her upper lip while his tongue speared her mouth. Sookie held on to him, trying to keep up with him. But before she could get into his rhythm, he drew back.

"I think you've done enough talking for tonight, Miss Stackhouse. Now, you will listen or I will make you," he admonished in a stern voice that sent a delicious shiver up her spine.

Sookie fought the impulse to squirm as she folded her arms across her chest and arched her brow that made her seem defensive rather than horny.

"I may not have siblings of my own but I also have people I consider family. Did Pam tell you she was beaten by a pervert to an inch of her life?" he asked seriously. Sookie replied with a slight nod. "When I saw her breathing through a tube, I wanted to hurt the son of a bitch who put her there. I almost snapped. But I didn't. Only _you_ could do that to me. Only you, Sookie. If I'm willing to raise that much hell for Pam, just imagine how much I'm willing to do for you." His blue eyes were searing with enough intensity to burn holes into her. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'd kill anyone with my bare hands for just _thinking_ of hurting you, Sookie."

Her shoulders sagged as she let out a breath. She untangled her arms across her chest and touched his cheek fondly.

"You're telling me I'm your family but you keep pushing me away. That's not how family works. If you reverse our situation and I'm the one who was assaulted, do you think you can just sit back and let it go?"

She swallowed hard before she shook her head.

"You can't just make up rules and expect me to be okay with it," he finished.

She repressed another sob before she cradled his face. "I'm sorry. It's just… It doesn't make sense. _We_ don't make sense. I can't help but imagine what will happen to me when our bubble bursts. I'm scared that _when_ our time comes, I may not have legs to stand on anymore."

He pulled away. His eyes turning icy as his jaw locked. "When?" he gritted.

He stood abruptly, making Sookie jerk a little at the sudden movement.

"Fuck!" he hissed, grabbing the back of his head with both hands. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

She scrambled out of her seat and made a move toward him.

"Don't come any closer!" he snarled raising his hand palm out in front of her. "Don't you fucking come any closer!"

Sookie was stunned, frozen at her feet. She took conscious breaths, willing her knees not to give out on her.

"Loving you is the hardest thing I had to do. But I did it anyway. Because I'm going for broke here, Sookie. Because you're worth it," he murmured as he sank on the edge of the bed. "Now you're telling me you're holding back because you're counting on us to fail?" He spat the last sentence out, an incredulous look in his hard eyes.

"That's not what I meant," she said in a weak voice. "I love you."

"Bullshit!" he roared, springing off the bed and lunging in front of her. He slammed his palms on the couch, caging her with his arms. The tip of his nose almost grazed hers. "Your words don't mean shit to me if you can't back them up."

Her eyes burned as she stopped herself from blinking.

"What do you want me to do, Eric?"

'_Marry me,'_ he almost said out loud.

He flinched and blinked at the sudden realization. It was a slip. Yes, just a fraudulent slip, he refuted. He could not be seriously thinking of marriage. His father asked him once if he ever considered tying the knot and he answered with a sarcastic chuckle. He had told Godric that he wasn't the marrying kind. The intricacies of his nature could not be understood by one woman. Could he have been wrong?

He pushed harder against the sofa before he muttered, "I want you," in a gruff voice.

"You have me."

"_All_ of you."

She gulped before she bobbed her head and let the tears fall. "Okay," she choked before she licked her lips that had gone dry. "Go big or go home, right?" she said, managing a small smile.

He pressed his lips together before he gave his head a light shake. "No. There's no '_go home_'. You're not leaving me," he spat in a tone that left no room for argument. Then without missing a beat, his mouth covered hers. He grabbed the back of her head and fisted his hand through her hair as he slanted his head to deepen the kiss. There was nothing gentle or sweet with the way he was claiming her mouth. And judging by the moan that erupted from her, she was not about to complain anytime soon.

Sookie snaked her arms around him pulling him flush against her, as though the space between them was so offensive. He pushed her down on the velvety couch without breaking contact with her lips. He grabbed both her wrists and pinned them above her head at the elegant curve at the end of the chaise lounge.

Using his free hand he unbuttoned her shorts and pulled it down. She lifted her hips to give him easy access and he wasted no time ridding her of her cotton hipster panties, too. His mouth left hers and he heard her whimper when he started sucking at the flesh behind her ear. She was squirming under him, pliant and restless. Just what he always wanted.

"Do you think anyone can still please you the way I do, Sookie?" he murmured against her skin as he slid down her covered breasts, leaving a burning path of kisses along her neck.

With her wrists still above her head she was powerless. She chewed on her lip to stifle a moan as she waited for Eric to unbuckle his pants and slide it down along with his silk boxers. He kicked his trousers off and brushed his fingers against her folds. He saw her eyes flutter close as she jerked her head back. She was moist and ready. She forced her eyes to stay open as she looked at him through hooded eyes.

"See? You're already so wet for me," he rasped as he ran the tip of his fingers along her inner thigh making her hips surge upward, begging for more pressure.

"You're so damn cocky," she countered hoarsely.

"Yes. Yes, I am," he hissed before he bit her nipple against the sheer fabric of her blouse and brassiere. She arched her back with a sharp cry of his name.

He leaped forward, leveling his face with hers. His breath warm against her cheeks. He clenched his jaw, knowing well enough how much she loved to run her fingers across the taut muscle of his jawline. He smirked lecherously when he saw her lick her lips while her arms struggle against his ironclad grip. A guttural grunt came out of her lips in sheer frustration. The Viking chuckled before he cupped her throat and stroked her chin.

"You're mine," he said, breathing deeply.

His hand went back to her chest and massaged her bosoms over her blouse one at a time. "These are mine."

She gasped his name again when his hand glided lower and started fondling the wetness between her thighs with his thumb. "This is mine."

Her lips gaped when she nodded her assent. Then she snapped her lips together to swallow thickly. "You forgot one more thing that's yours," she rasped between pants. He released her wrists before his lips latched onto hers.

"What?" he asked breathlessly as he nipped at her shoulder, tugging on the strap of her intrusive top.

Sookie entwined her fingers with his before she guided his hand toward her chest, between her breasts, right where her heart thumped erratically.

"This..." she said, locking her eyes with his."…_this_ is yours, too."

He untangled his fingers with hers as he laid his palm against her chest, trying to feel the beating of her heart. _'Mine.'_

The gesture was sickeningly sweet and definitely unlike them. It was unquestionably unlike the old Sookie. He liked it. No, he _loved_ it.

He decided he could not stall any longer as he tugged at her shirt while Sookie fumbled to get him out of his.

Soon they were naked, gasping with want. Eric buried his face in her neck, licking and nipping at her soft skin, making sure he would leave marks. He was like a dog pissing at his territory. No fucker in his right mind would ever dare let his eyes linger on her again.

He sprinted toward the bedside table and opened a drawer as he seized a condom. He could see her watching him with hooded eyes as he put the rubber on like an annoying intermission.

"Come here," he commanded, curling his finger to beckon her.

Sookie rose gloriously nude from the couch and tiptoed toward the bed. They eyed each other with unabashed desire. He watched her lick her lips when her gaze landed on his thick and throbbing erection.

"Keep eye-fucking me like that and I'll make sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow," he said hoarsely.

She reached out to him, her fingers flitting over the hard contour of his torso down to the V of his pelvis. He snatched her wrist when her hand tried to dip lower. He gave her a tut before he pulled her against him and attacked her mouth. Sookie was gasping for breath when he released her. He pushed her forcefully at her shoulder and she fell on her back on the bed with a thud.

He grabbed her ankles and slung them over his shoulder. His entire body tensed up and the muscles around his biceps hardened as he locked eyes with her. He took himself in his hand and teased her by flicking the head in her slick entrance making Sookie groan and narrow her eyes at him.

He smirked like the diabolical lover that he was before he entered her in a slow, but forceful manuever.

She made a sound that was a cross between a shriek and a sob at the penetration. It didn't matter how many times Eric had been inside her, no one could ever be completely prepared for his size. His eyes darkened before he took an audible breath. He crushed his lips against her in a ferocious kiss as he started rolling his hips torturously slow. He would pull out of her only to thrust inside again, harder every time. Each drive was more possessive.

"Tell me you love me," he demanded, his throat dry making his voice gravelly.

"I love you," she whispered as she dug her fingers against his hardened back.

"You won't leave me. I won't allow it."

"I won't. Never," she replied with the same amount of vehemence.

Sookie cried out his name over and over and his chest rumbled with a low, husky growl. He could feel her coming, clenching around him. He could sense his own orgasm building up and he braced himself to come undone with her.

This was not the time to impress her with his stamina. This was for them. This was the time to assure each other that they were one. And no one could break them apart.

Her back curved to make way for him and she screamed his name out loud when her climax hit her. Not a second longer, he joined her in her ecstatic high with an audible groan.

For a seemingly long time he was on top of her, sweaty and panting. She kept her hands around his shoulder, keeping him in place, never complaining of the dead weight that was constricting her from breathing normally.

"I love you, Sookie. I'm sorry if I don't say it often enough, but I do love you." He was still grasping for air, but he felt the strong need to reassure her.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie felt the mattress heave and she forced her eyelids to open. Her skin tickled when Eric peeled the velvety Egyptian blanket and the cool air from the air conditioner hit her when he vacated his place beside her.

She rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes and turned to his side of the bed. She saw him stride to the walk-in closet.

"Eric?" she croaked. "What you are doin'?"

"I'm going to unpack your bags." He was still naked from their lovemaking and she squinted to stare at his beautiful ass.

"Don't."

He turned sharply, the soft illumination from the dressing room showed her how his features considerably darkened. "I thought we're already clear on that subject."

Sookie climbed out of the bed grabbing the blanket and wrapping herself with it. She sauntered in his direction, her lips tugging into an elfin smirk, a stark contrast with his expression.

"Those are _our_ bags," she said a little too innocently. "We're going to Louisiana, remember? Not unless you're planning on bailing out on me and letting me go stag to my brother's wedding."

His eyebrows shot up to his forehead, relief flooding his face.

"It's my turn to bring you to the house I grew up in. It's time I bring you home, too."

He growled before he slithered his arms around her waist and pulled her. "You could have told me that sooner."

She broke into a full smile. "I wanted to punish you for taking off," she chimed before she let go of the blanket that was hindering their skin from touching. "Besides, I like it when you fuck me hard."

His reaction was immediate as his bulge stood at attention and pressed against her belly.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll be going to Louisiana in a wheelchair."

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric.**

**Happy Valentine's Day!**

**Love. Love. Love, my sweets! **


	36. Chapter 36

"Mr. Northman?"

Eric gripped the roof of the town car before he cast a sideway glance at his caller. He gauged the two suited men behind him before he gave a slight nod to the doorman who was holding the passenger door of the black Bentley that was parked at the lobby of the North. He felt the mobile phone in his hand vibrate and read the message at the screen.

'_Must you always be fashionably late?'_ was Sookie's flippant text. He could almost imagine her rolling her eyes while she typed.

He fought the urge to smile as he schooled his features to remain impassive before he turned to the intrusive men who were threatening to cause even more delay.

"Yes?" he asked the man who addressed him.

"I am Special Agent Morales," introduced the Hispanic-looking man with thick black hair and pointed nose. Agent Morales gestured toward his Caucasian companion who was about a foot shorter than Eric with freckled cheeks and red hair, "and this is Special Agent Harper." Both men flashed their identification cards for the Viking's perusal. Eric had spent enough time with G-men to know how to spot the real deal.

And these men were Feds, alright.

Eric didn't offer a response as he waited for the men to state their case. His mind was already spinning as he sifted through the names of the Feds he had in his payroll. He might need Pam to make certain calls before he flies to Louisiana.

"We're investigating the disappearance of Victor Madden," Morales resumed, tucking in his ID wallet back in his jacket pocket.

"Victor's missing?" Eric didn't even miss a beat. Hell, if he were strapped to a lie detector, he doubted if his pulse would flinch.

The man who had been identified as Agent Harper stepped closer as he nodded his assent. "Mr. Madden has been reported missing yesterday by his associate William Compton when he failed to make it to his Summerville residence two nights ago. He was last seen boarding the corporate jet at Miami airport."

"And this concerns me, why?" Eric asked with a mask of ennui.

"We've already contacted his employer, Russell Edgington, and some of Madden's associates. Mr. Edgington could not give us any viable information about Madden's whereabouts since he was out of the country. However, during our talk with both Mr. Edgington and Mr. Compton your name cropped up once or twice. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" asked Morales as politely as he could.

"Am I a suspect here, gentlemen?" Eric queried, arching his eyebrow challengingly. His lips curved into his patented smirk, not even bothering to disguise the insolence in his tone.

Morales shook his head defensively as he took half a step back. "No, no, Mr. Northman. Not a suspect, no, but a person of interest. We only want to cover all our bases. We certainly hope you don't mind."

"Actually I do. You see, I have a plane to catch and I'm already running late," Eric said with thinly veiled irritation. As if on cue, his mobile phone vibrated in his palm. He held a finger to the G-men before he pivoted to check the message.

'_Tick tock, sweetheart.' _

Eric held off a grunt as he ground his teeth. If it were another time he would have smiled from ear to ear at her term of endearment. But it wasn't the time to indulge.

He typed a quick, _'Something came up. Leave now. Will explain later. Sorry, sweetheart,'_ reply, hoping his attempt at some saccharine humor would make her less likely to strangle him.

He brusquely chucked his phone in his trousers before he returned his attention to the invasive agents.

"Do you mind if we wait for my lawyer?"

The agents exchanged a curious look but it was Agent Morales who voiced out their concern. "I don't think it's necessary to lawyer up, Mr. Northman."

Eric straightened his jacket and swept his hair back to his forehead.

"Oh, but I think it is," he replied coolly. "I have a reputation to protect and it's my prerogative to take whatever measure to protect my name."

The Viking was bluffing. He knew he could get through the quasi interrogation without a hitch. He only wanted to buy time until Sookie was out of Nevada before they start asking questions about her.

Morales bobbed his head with a little apprehension.

"Shall we go up to my office, then?"

* * *

**E/S **

Jason picked Sookie up from Louis Armstrong airport in New Orleans. She had called her brother from Las Vegas before she and the rest of her security detail took off that morning without the Viking. Jake, along with Clancy (who was handpicked by Roman to join Purifoy as one of Sookie's guards), had managed to remain incognito as they tailed the siblings in their rented SUV. Clancy and Jake had impressed Sookie with their ability to blend in while they kept an eye on her from a comfortable proximity. She tried to discreetly offer her sentry food and beverage – part of her Southern upbringing- but they declined immediately.

Sookie had only been away for over a month and the Stackhouse residence was already in dire need of a woman's touch. The monochromatic white front porch was screaming for heavy-duty scrubbing and sweeping. Her gran's sturdy rocking chair was, thankfully, still in good condition. It even looked like it was freshly painted. That rocking chair was Jason's favorite furniture in the house. Probably because that was where their gran would sit waiting for him to come home for dinner with a cold glass of sweet tea.

She had also been relieved to find that her sibling was able to keep the cream colored magnolias alive and perky as they decorated the wrap-around porch surrounding the two-story French Acadian plantation.

Dust swirled in a colorful hue in the air and greeted her as she entered the quaint living room. The screen door shut behind her with a creak and she thought it could use a drop of oil. She had wasted no time inspecting her gran's beloved kitchen. It was in better shape than she had anticipated. The pots and pans hanging by the sink were still in an organized chaos. The overhead cupboards were still intact albeit slightly ajar from all the excessive plates and bowls her gran had accumulated over the years. Even when Adele Stackhouse was still alive they barely used five sets of dishes. Seven, tops, when they had guests, which was as often as the blue moon. But Adele, bless her heart, could not get herself to give or throw away any of her precious tableware.

Sookie inspected grease around the stovetop and dried oil spatter on the wall above it – possibly from countless bacon-and-egg meals Jason had over the space of seven weeks she had been away. She didn't mind though. Overall the house was worse than when she had left it but way better than she had expected - considering Jason was its only occupant. All it needed was some hardcore cleansing and scrubbing and it would be ready for her Viking.

'_Ready for Eric.'_

Jason filled her in with all the latest gossips in their little sleepy town while Sookie started cleaning her way from the kitchen all the way to her bedroom. She had taken down the grimy curtains and changed her bed sheet and duvet (which were blessedly untouched while she was gone). Somehow, she couldn't bear the thought of letting Eric sleep on soiled and tattered sheets.

'_Stop thinking about him!'_ she berated herself. _'You don't even know if he's still coming!'_

She kept her mobile phone tethered to her side even when she was elbow deep in a bucket of soapy water that strongly reeked of bleach. Jason remained oblivious to her inner struggle as he took charge of the laundry. Sookie would duck through the back door or rush to the bathroom to check on her lifeless phone.

And it never failed to disappoint her every time.

* * *

**E/S**

"You look like you could use a drink, baby girl." Lafayette's lilting voice pulled Sookie out of her gloomy mood momentarily as she looked up from the table napkin she had been folding and unfolding for the past ten minutes. She beamed at her former employer who was the loudest and funniest person she knew. Lafayette Reynolds was the kind of person who could belt out Endless Love – nailing both Lionel Richie and Diana Ross parts – while throwing away drunks from his bar with one hand. He was incredibly fabulous like that and Sookie loved him like a brother – or sister, whatever works.

"Uh-oh, there's the crazy Soo-Soo smile again," Lafayette teased quirking a perfectly lined eyebrow at her. "C'mon, baby girl, tell momma, what's botherin' ya."

Sookie grabbed her Diet Coke and took a few gulps as she stole a glance at her brother who was talking animatedly with Hoyt and Tray by the pool table.

It was a little past seven and the local watering hole was getting filled with men in checked shirts and work pants ordering beer by the pitcher. There were also women in their casual sundresses and lightweight cardigans, who were probably too tired to cook or just in serious need of a breather. It was a Friday after all and Sookie was expecting the crowd to grow as the hours passed. There were two new waitresses that Sookie didn't recognize. But she was too depressed and too exhausted to care to get their names. Maybe tomorrow, she thought.

She fingered her phone inside her bag. _'Ring, dammit!'_ she screamed mentally at the damned contraption. But it was all in vain.

Its silence was the loudest thing inside the noisy bar.

She texted Eric another message (the eighth message she had left him since she had landed in Nola). She would stop at eight, she noted. Eight was still an acceptable number of text messages a girl could send her boyfriend without seeming too obsessive in accordance with Louisiana law. In Nevada, five was the maximum.

It would be the last message she would send him, she stressed. Her fragile ego was already taking a beating with seven unreturned messages. Eight would be her limit. Because anything higher than that would put her in the same category as Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. Or Nora Gainesborough in the Northman Chronicles.

She thought a succinct 'hi' would do to remind him of her presence. She also sent a short one to Jake, who was a few feet from her, having Lafayette's famous burger and a bottle of beer with Clancy.

'_You guys, okay?'_

'_Don't mind us. We're good. And stop frowning,'_ was Jake's quick response.

She slanted her head and shot him a small reassuring smile before she turned her attention back to Lafayette. She sipped her soda before she tilted the bottle, moving her thumb over the label wiping tiny beads of water across it.

"Are ya gonna 'fess up or do I hafta to make you drunk first, sugar?" Lafayette kept prodding.

"Confess what?" Arlene chimed in as the barmaid snuck up from behind the bar, refilling a mug of lager from the tap. Arlene was a thirty something redhead with deep eyes and strong cheekbones. She had a thick Pennsylvania accent which made her drag out her syllables.

"Aww, Sook's prolly all sulky because her date didn't show up," Maudette butted in. She was a lot younger than Arlene but still a couple of years older than Sookie. Her ample breasts and slim waist paired with her long wavy brown locks and green eyes made her a constant hit with the local patrons.

Her coquettish demeanor didn't hurt either. And once upon a time, not too long ago, she (like most girls in town) had been under Jason's spell.

Maudette took the freshly filled mugs off the counter and lined them on the tray that she was balancing with one hand.

Sookie shook her head before she started tuning her old co-workers out like white noise. It wasn't the first time she had done that. Arlene and Maudette were rabid gossipmongers. If someone threw them a bone, it wouldn't be long before they turn it into a monster with a life of its own.

"At least tell us if he's a he," Arlene quipped as she wiped her damp hands on her apron that was wrapped in front of her black skimpy shorts.

Sookie raised an eyebrow at the redhead. "I didn't realize there was ever a debate?"

Arlene raised her palms out and waved them in front of Sookie as a form of surrender. "Hey, Sook, I'm the one who told 'em you ain't swingin' that way."

"Them?" Sookie asked pointedly casting an accusatory glare at Maudette then at Lafayette.

Maudette quickly shrugged the guilt written all over her face and thrust her chin up. "Can you really blame us, hon? You haven't had a boyfriend since birth and you turned down Alcide. Alcide, Sook! No straight woman in her right mind will ever turn down that walking sex on stick!"

"You knew about that?" Sookie was aghast. Why the hell would Alcide tell them about his little gaffe?

"Don't be mad at Alcide, Sook, Jason's the one who couldn't keep his voice down when poor Alcide told him you rejected his proposal," Arlene said, her voice dropping to a whisper. Something, apparently, her brother wasn't capable of doing.

Lafayette cut them all off when he stabbed his hand in the air - fingers splayed displaying his long glittery purple nails. "Fuck off bitches, if I wanna hear old news I'd watch tee-vee. What I's wanna know is who Soo-Soo's mystery man is."

Sookie felt a blush creeping up as she looked down at her bowl of mixed nuts. The phrase 'What happened in Vegas,' had never been any more applicable for Sookie. It seemed as though the news of her relationship with Eric had taken the slow boat to Louisiana. And Sookie didn't know if she were relieved or disappointed. Probably both. Because she was still conjuring up enough courage to break the news to her volatile sibling.

What could someone actually say to describe her Viking? She doubted there was a single word in the dictionary that could sum up Eric Northman. Even if she were to say all the adjectives that popped in her head to describe her insatiable lover, she doubted they would be enough. More importantly, would they believe her?

Eric Northman was someone she could bring to a show and tell and she was certain she would get an A plus just for showing up. He was her trophy boyfriend, she thought as she gave herself a mental high five for bagging the top prize.

She cleared her throat audibly. "He's… um, nice, I guess," she replied with a timid expression.

"Nice?" Arlene and Maudette screeched in unison.

"Fuck no! Nice?!" Lafayette shook his head vigorously, wiggling his index finger while clicking his tongue. "Nice ain't good enough. Nice is what a girl will say when she's dating someone as ugly as a homemade sin."

Her former boss spun from his barstool and dashed to his office at the back of the kitchen. Before Sookie and the rest of her friends could speculate what he was about to do, the vivacious bar owner came back swinging his hips exaggeratedly. Trapped under his armpit was one of his cheap gossip magazines. He slammed the trashy periodical on the bar and flipped the pages until he found the one he was looking for.

Sookie almost spat out the soda she was chugging when Lafayette pointed at a candid photo of her and Eric. It was the one taken at the Grand Canyon barely a month ago. It was the same photo she had seen on Pam's tablet. The one Pam said would never see the light of day. Evidently, it had seen the light of Louisiana sun.

She straightened the page and stared at her image. Her face was pixelated and she was eternally grateful for that. Or… was she?

Lala tapped his nail at the flimsy page. "_This_ is a ten. Actually _he_ is a god. But for all intents and purposes let's say he's a ten. Now tell me the man tappin' your ass is at least a five. Because if I have your face and your body I won't be settlin' for anythin' less than a seven."

Sookie was rendered speechless. The anxiety came back in full force and hit her all at once. They had only been separated for half a day and she was already missing him the way the girl in the Twilight series missed her vampire in book two.

She bit her lower lip as she tried to find her voice back. She cleared her throat while she traced his face with the tip of her finger across the worn out page.

"Now _that_ is a walking sex on stick." She heard Arlene mumble almost inaudibly.

'_My thoughts exactly,'_ Sookie agreed silently.

"Hey, I haven't seen this issue yet!" Maudette exclaimed putting the tray down and grabbing the magazine off the wooden bar. "New girl, huh? Wonder why they messed up her picture when she's prolly like the rest of the dumb bimbos he's dated."

Arlene peeked at the magazine over Maudette's shoulder. "I won't mind bein' called a dumb bimbo as long as I'll be _his_ bimbo."

"Well you've got the dumb part already covered, hookah," Lafayette sassed, earning him a sharp slap on the shoulder from the redhead.

Sookie gaped at them. She wanted to tell them it was her and that she was no dumb bimbo. She wanted to scream profanities at them and tell them to keep their fantasies to themselves because the man they were ogling at was _hers_. But her ability to speak continued to elude her.

She spied Jake snickering with Clancy, obviously eavesdropping on their conversation, and shot him a warning glare. He shrugged and gave her a look that meant 'Just tell them already.' And Sookie knew he was right.

She wrung her hands, wracking her brain for the fitting opener.

Friendly? _'Sorry, sweetie, but I heard he's already seeing someone exclusively… me.' _Sookie cringed. Oh god, that was the kind of lame she wouldn't even hear on Glee.

Or hostile? _'Wipe your drool, bitches, he's mine!' _Nope. Not like that either. That was so Kathy Bates.

Before Sookie could come up with anything witty in her coming-out-of-the-Eric-closet speech her brother came barging to her side all nervous and exasperated. He didn't beat around the bush when he asked her to proxy for one of the bridesmaids who couldn't make it to Louisiana by tomorrow.

Sookie's shoulders sagged before she took her phone out. She couldn't help but sigh when she found her inbox empty.

'_You better be as miserable as me because it's your fault I'm in this godawful mood. You've spoiled me rotten.'_ She typed frantically and hit send before she could realize how pathetic she must have sounded.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie didn't know how long she had been staring at the vaulted ceiling of her bedroom. She turned to the bedside table and yanked the old desk clock. It was half past eleven and she almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of her situation. Eleven thirty in Las Vegas was six thirty in Bon Temps. Could she be any more pitiable?

She swung off the bed and pulled her pink robe off the armchair of her vanity dresser. She put it on and tightened the sash around her waist before she peeked at her window to check on her guards. She could see Jake's heavily-tattooed arm hanging loosely by the open window of the passenger seat, a cigarette tucked between his fingers.

She had offered them the couch since Jason would be in Shreveport with Hoyt and Alcide for his bachelor party and would not be back until tomorrow morning. But Jake and Clancy, as expected, refused.

"I don't think Mr. Northman will appreciate the thought of you alone in the house with two men," Jake had said. Standing vigil was the easiest part of their job description, they added.

Sookie shut the drapes before she marched downstairs to fetch a glass of water. She was on her way back to her room when she caught a glimpse of Michele's wedding dress inside a garment bag on top of her gran's old bed.

Because the chapel was closer to the farmhouse, Michele and the rest of her entourage would be using the Stackhouse residence as their dressing room tomorrow. All the dresses were hanging neatly at the improvised clothes' rack in the master's bedroom. Sookie's bridesmaid attire was sent to the seamstress in Shreveport for a few adjustments since Sookie was a last-minute replacement.

Among the sea of tulle and lace, she couldn't seem to keep her eyes off the ivory toned gown that was meant solely for the bride.

She lifted it by the hanger and stared at it simple magnificence. _'What are you doing, Sookie?'_ a voice inside her head intoned.

She would never be able to wear a gown as beautiful as this, she thought to herself. She would never get married. She had already made her peace with that. The Stackhouse curse would end with her. Besides, there was no one to tie herself with.

'_There's Eric.'_ She wasn't sure if the voice were encouraging her or mocking her. The pessimist in her said it was the latter.

She could honestly say that Eric was the love of her life. But could he promise her forever?

'_Don't be a moron, Sookie, there's no such thing as forever.'_

She must really be delusional if she were arguing with her own thoughts. Without pausing for another internal debate she put the glass down the bedside table and peeled the plastic wrapping. The garment bag crinkled at the floor followed by her pink towel robe.

She was ready to plead temporary insanity tomorrow because tonight she would be the bride that she knew she would never be.

* * *

**E/S**

She gaped in muted awe as she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror at the back of the built-in closet in her room. She ran her hands through the delicate flower stitching embossed on the front of the pearly white creation, letting her fingers glide across the soft fabric of the chiffon empire cut strapless gown.

It was a fortunate coincidence that the Sheriff's daughter was the same size as her. Although Sookie was more endowed in the bosom department, Michele's pregnancy must have given her bust the needed boost and it made the dress all the more perfect for the Southerner. She wouldn't admit it to anyone but she was beginning to comprehend the allure of matrimony. The silky fabric that looked like snow against her skin, the train that seemed to dance and follow even her littlest of movements and the veil, oh, the sheer tulle netting the covered her blush. She swept the veil back before she carefully pried the fake tiara off her head and placed it on top of her old dresser. She could do without the veil, she mused.

If there were ever a list of clothes she hadn't envisioned herself in, a bridal gown would be at the top of that list, followed by animal print bikini.

She pulled her hair up in a messy chignon to reveal her neck and toned shoulder blades. Unfortunately that simple gesture also displayed the small bruises at her collarbone. A cluster of souvenirs from her passionate night with her Viking. Her heart reflexively leaped to her throat.

'_Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic.'_ She grazed her fingers across the skin where the Viking had stamped his insignia. She imagined Eric grinning wolfishly and giving her the 'I told you there's no escaping me' stare. She sighed. She didn't even have the energy to challenge the imaginary Viking.

Imaginary Eric was right. She couldn't keep her mind off of him. _'God, I missed you.'_

She backed away from the mirror and raised the bottom of her dress so as not to drag the medium-length train across the wooden floor before she twirled like a princess.

Five more minutes, she told herself. Five more minutes and she would take it off. Five more minutes and she would forget her inane fantasy. Five more minutes and she would accept her bitter reality that she would never be anyone's bride.

Five more minutes and…

"Call me superstitious but I think it's bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding." A familiar smug voice drawled behind her and she instinctively jumped back and whipped her head so fast she thought it would snap off of her neck.

Her stomach twisted into a knot as she stared at the Viking leaning casually against the frame of her bedroom door. He was wearing dark skinny jeans, gray V-neck shirt under his black leather motorcycle jacket. His hair was swept up to his forehead making his damning smirk even more damnable.

'_Who wears leather in August in Bon Temps?'_ she thought comically. His attire would have drawn mockery from the locals but because he was Eric 'I-can-pull-anything-off' Northman, it looked condemnably perfect.

Sookie pressed her lips into a tight line as she composed herself before she slowly whisked her whole body to face him. It was a conscious effort to breathe but she was not about to let him know that. Not after he had given her the cold treatment the whole fucking day.

She mirrored his devilish expression, making his eyebrow quirk upward just a little bit.

"Well, then won't you be a dear and give me a holler when Skarsgard gets here," she pealed ever so sweetly, batting her thick lashes for effect.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric shoved his hands in his pockets before he strutted toward her, every step excruciatingly slow and calculated. His eyes were rapacious as they raked over his sly lover. From her unkempt bun to her moist lips. From her chest that kept moving up and down as she heaved deeply through the length of her dress. That fucking white vestal dress that clung to all the right places and hugged all the delicious curves.

He wanted to freeze time so he could just stare at her without looking like a deranged psychopath. And the sad part was that the creepy psycho inside him was the only thing reining him in. Because every fiber of his body was goading him to take her. Rip that torturous dress and take her _now_.

'_Down, boy,'_ he willed his erection down before he arranged his features to remain blank.

"Haven't you learned anything from last night, Miss Stackhouse?" he hushed. There was an underlying threat in his tone as his eyes went back up to her face.

Sookie swallowed thickly but she managed to keep her silence.

"You know it's not safe for you to toy with me," he added in a voice that sounded like a husky growl that made her eyes instantly darken.

He could tell that her breath was getting ragged and that thought that he could elicit such reaction from her was immensely enjoyable.

His lips tugged at the side to reveal a lopsided smirk. If he weren't watching her closely he would not have noticed Sookie stifle a gasp. The sudden whoosh of the bottom her dress let him know she was pressing her thighs together. He suppressed the growl that was building up from his chest.

Eric took another step forward while her feet remained rooted to the floor. His hand flew to her forehead to swipe the loose curls and tucked them behind her ear. He stopped himself from grinning when he felt her breath catch as she locked her eyes with his, trying to match the intensity of his gaze but falling just a little short.

His fingers slid down from her earlobe to the length of her neck before he lifted her chin with his knuckle.

"Nice dress," he purred as his other hand caressed her bare shoulder.

"Thanks. I'll be sure to tell Michele you liked it," she replied croakily.

Eric ignored her reply as he grazed the top of her breasts with the back of his hand making her skin prickle. "You know… I haven't fucked a blushing bride before."

Her eyes widened as his words sank in. She shook her head vigorously making her hair fall and cascade to her shoulder. "Don't get any ideas, buster! Michele will kill me!" She backed away from him pushing her palm against his chest to stop his advances.

Eric's smirk broke into a feral grin as he pushed forward until she was backed against the draped window. "Do you really think I'll let anyone wear this again after I've seen you in it?"

His gaze was scorching, challenging, unrelenting. There was no fucking way Jason's simpleton fiancée would get married in this dress. No fucking way. Even if he had to buy every single bridal gown in this podunk town to replace the one Sookie was in.

"Besides I don't think this…" one hand slithered to her back, searching for the zipper that held the dress together, "will survive what I'm about to do to you."

The pad of his thumb glazed over her parted lips and she surprised him when she flicked her tongue out to lick it. He groaned when he felt the aching bulge strain inside his pants and he immediately regretted wearing something so very constricting.

"Michele will never forgive me," she rasped as her palm that was meant to prevent him from getting closer trailed upward and tried to peel his jacket off.

Eric drew back a little to take off his leather jacket and drop it unceremoniously on the floor. "In-laws are meant to hate each other anyway," he volleyed back with a shrug.

She smiled as she pushed her hands up beneath his shirt, tracing the taut muscle of his torso. "I will burn in hell for this, Eric."

He couldn't help but chuckle while he yanked his shirt over his head. "About time you join the club."

"I hate you," she grumbled as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

He dipped his head to rest his temple against hers. "I love you," he husked.

Sookie had nothing more to say as their lips collided and their tongues danced furiously. Eric buried his hand in her hair as Sookie gripped his shoulder for better leverage. He pulled her closer with a hand against her back. It snaked down the back of her dress all the while cursing his inability to locate the seemingly invisible zipper or the miniscule button that was keeping the dress intact.

Her mouth left his with a gasp before she started placing wet kisses along with his collarbone down to his chest.

"Sookie…" he murmured breathily as he struggled to get her out of her virginal gown. She moaned in response and it didn't seem enough for Eric as he cupped her throat lovingly and tilted her head upward to capture her lips. He felt the soft buzzing of his phone inside his jeans but he couldn't even pretend to care. He had already played along with all the bullshit in Vegas. Nothing and no one could keep him away from her anymore.

"What the fuck is goin' on here!"

Well, except for him.

Eric didn't need to turn around to know who had made that irritable noise. And judging by the sound of the heavy footsteps outside he could discern her brother wasn't alone.

Sookie made a sound that was a cross between a squeal and a shriek before she untangled her arms around Eric and jerked back. Eric reflexively pushed Sookie behind him and put a protective arm around her. Jake, Clancy, Roman and the bastard Alcide scampered behind Jason, looking over the older Stackhouse's shoulder, wearing similar wary expressions.

"Jason! What the hell! What are you doin' here?" she yelled.

"I _live_ here!" Jason screamed back, pressing his palms against the doorframe to steady himself. "What is _he_ doin' here? And why in fuck's name are you suckin' face with this motherfucker!" He pointed an accusing finger at Eric, while elbowing the four muscular men behind him.

"Keep your voice down, Jason," Sookie spat through gritted teeth as she tried to push past Eric. She clutched the front of her dress in an effort to cover her half exposed breasts. "There are too many men in this house. Anyone who is not a Stackhouse or a Northman, please get out."

Eric's gaze landed on the hulking Alcide who was struggling to get in the room and the Viking didn't even try to hide the satisfied smile that graced his face upon hearing Sookie's oh-so-charming command. He gave Alcide a slight nod as if to shoo him before he ordered his guards to leave as well.

"Hmm… I thought you couldn't get any sexier in that dress but you seemed to be keen on proving me wrong," he hushed behind her before he weaved his arm around her waist.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" Jason yelled. His fingers curled into tight fists at the sides.

Jason's bewilderment was mildly entertaining for the Viking but he didn't travel a couple thousand miles to be entertained and her brother's ignorance was getting utterly annoying.

"Oh please," Eric said with unflinching arrogance. "I think the plausible deniability of me fucking your sister is no longer plausible, don't you think?"

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie sat at the edge of her single mattress bed as she watched Jason pace back and forth. In the end, she had to ask Eric to wait for them downstairs because Jason was incapable of forming a coherent phrase without breaking into a fit.

"Every night, Sook, every fuckin' night since I found out I'm gonna be a daddy, I sit in the rocking chair and ask gran one thing. One thing. For my baby to be a boy."

Jason saw his sister's head snap at him and he put a finger in front of her to silence her protests. "It's not because I'm a pig." He snorted. "Well, _it is_ because I'm a pig. I believe in karma, Sook. I believe it's a hateful, vindictive bitch. And I'm afraid that if I have a girl she'll be a trouble magnet too and she'll pay for my sins."

He flashed her a wry smile. "It never occurred to me to ask gran to look out for you. Because I know you're the one with all the smarts." He grabbed the back of his head and let out a loud an exasperated grunt. "What the hell happened, Sook? A month ago you couldn't stand to be in the same room with that asshat now you're swapping spit with him in our house!"

Sookie remained mum as she sank heavily into the bed.

"What did he do? Tell me!" Jason yelled. Spittle flew out from the side of his mouth. Then, a flicker of recognition crossed his face before his lips twisted into a scowl. "He's the one who paid off the debt, isn't he? Is that it?"

He saw her stiffen and lift her gaze back to him. "Is that what you really think?" she asked in a tight voice. "Did you really think I'd stoop that low to get out of debt? You think I'm that shallow?"

Jason recoiled, feeling the burning hate in her stare.

"My entire adult life revolved around you and gran and the memory of dad, Jason. I've resigned myself to a life of solitude because I thought that was the card I was dealt with. Do you know why I just sleep every fourth of July?" She stood up and inched toward him.

"Because, unlike you, I have no girlfriends I can drown my sorrows with. Because you fucked most of the girls I know and they couldn't stand to be friends with the sister of the guy who messed them up. But did I ever complain?" she said with unblinking eyes. "I never did. Because it never really bothered me. I told myself didn't need them. I just need you."

Jason was lost for words. He didn't realize that the spiteful karma bitch had already hounded his sibling. And the fact that he was only hearing about it now made him even more ashamed of his cluelessness.

"This is the first time in my life I did something for me. Not for you. Not for dad. But for me. Can you really deprive me of that?"

Jason shook his head disbelievingly. "He's not right for you, Sook! Have you taken a look at that bastard? He's me but with a lot of dough. That makes him worse."

"He loves me!"

"Alcide loves you!" he spat. Why couldn't she realize she deserved someone better? Someone who would not leave her and hurt her in a heartbeat. Why couldn't she see Alcide was her perfect match?

Sookie huffed condescendingly. "Alcide doesn't love me. Do you know what I see whenever he looks at me? Pity, Jason. Not love," she said as she advanced toward him. "I love, Eric."

Jason's mouth formed an O-shape as his eyes widened. "You can't be serious?"

"How can I not? He'd seen me at my worst. Saw all the ugliness in me and still found me beautiful," she said tilting her head. "I need him, Jason. I need him because I can't imagine anything else without him in it. I love him. So much. So damn much that I'm going to use my Corbett card on this."

'_Mother shithead!_' Jason thought wildly. If he thought his sister had been pulling some kind of a sick prank on him before, he didn't now. Corbett card was sacred to Sookie. To both of them. It was like the Pope himself. Even when Sookie had been caught gambling in an underground poker game in Shreveport and had spent a night in Caddo Parish jail, she didn't use her trump card to coerce Jason not to tell on her.

"You're wasting it on him?" Jason prodded, still in a state of utter perplexity.

"Nope," Sookie replied, shaking her head in dissent. "No questions, remember? That's how it works. Blind obedience. United front. That's it. No buts, no ifs."

He let out a brittle chuckle as he sat down on the worn-out ottoman in front of her dresser. "We have no more Corbetts, Sook. You know what that means, right? We'll have to find someone else to pull the plug when one of us is brain dead."

"I think that's what DNRs are for," she said with a soft smile.

Jason draped his arm over her shoulder, tugging Sookie closer. He never thought he'd see the day he would actually have to let his baby sister go. And he thought he was the one getting married.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric's feet tapped against the hard wood floor of the living room as he glanced at his diver's watch and realized that it had been a little over twenty minutes since he had been evicted from Sookie's room. _'What the hell is taking her so long?' _

He stood up and started toward the masonry fireplace that was the centerpiece of the quaint receiving area that was peppered with all kinds of trinkets. Picture frames of different shapes and sizes stood in a neat column on top of the brick mantle. He picked up the one that featured the young Sookie Stackhouse. Her toothy smile was unmistakable. She was presumably eight to nine years old and she was riding a tacky bike that was obviously too small for her. A bigger boy with blonde curls, who was undoubtedly her brother, was behind her flexing his bony arms like a wrestler.

Eric placed the photo back to its place before he took the older frame behind it. It must be her grandmother in her twenties with a man who had his arm draped around her shoulder. Most likely her grandfather. But there was another man in the photo. Because of the low resolution he couldn't quite make out their features.

One thing was for certain, though, Sookie was as beautiful as her gran. And he wished he could have met her.

The thick humid Southern air blew inside the windows and hit his face. He welcomed it like a warm embrace. He took his phone out to check for emails from Pam about the Feds. Those government bozos were too easy. Eric didn't even need to call his contact in Quantico to fend them off. Victor Madden's disappearance was a seamless mission. He was very careful not to leave a trail of breadcrumbs in Madden's wake.

The Spaniard had been very thorough. According to Tony after his 57-second phone call with Felipe last night, Madden had been in Sabaneta infirmary twice for trying to take his own life by gnawing at his wrist.

'_Pathetic little weasel.'_

If everything went according to plan during the Marquez-Pacquiao fight, maybe Eric would feel charitable enough to slip Madden a switchblade for a clean cut to his wrist. End his misery.

He marched toward the window and peeked through the threadbare curtains. Alcide, the sneeze, was still outside having a pissing contest with Roman. Eric would have loved to walk out of there and have a little chat with him. But that could wait. All he wanted was to climb the stairs and be a fly on the wall in her bedroom.

But Eric had been burned once for eavesdropping on the Stackhouse siblings. He would not do it again.

'_Never,'_ he reiterated. He glanced up at the foyer and grunted. _'Oh, fuck it!'_

With featherlight steps, the ones he used to sneak in on her earlier, he dashed upstairs and pressed his ears to the door.

"I knew it. I fuckin' knew it. Didn't I tell you to watch out for his dashing smile? And did you listen?" Eric heard Jason murmur.

Sookie's muffled chuckle was music to Eric's ears. It seemed as though the worst part was over. "I never really stood a chance, did I?" He heard her quip.

'_No, Sookie. It's me who didn't stand a chance.'_

A short pause.

"He's gonna break your heart," Jason said in a matter-of-fact tone. Eric resisted the urge to storm inside and grab the male Stackhouse by the collar. What the fuck was that asshole talking about? Clearly he wasn't aware of his sister's ability to crush Eric herself.

"I sure hope you're wrong, Jase, cause there's not much else I can do now. It's already his to break."

'_Ho-ly yes!'_

Eric pressed his ear harder, his breathing getting heavier. Did he hear her right?

"I think I'm gonna need to give him the speech then," Jason muttered.

"What speech?"

"The if-you-fucking-break-my-sister's-heart-I'm-gonna-find-you-and-gut-you-like-a-pig speech."

"You will not touch him, Jason! Not a hair on his head, am I clear?" Sookie screeched and Eric felt his ears burn.

Jason laughed gustily. The kind of laughter she had whenever she was teasing him.

"Well, I'm a son of a bitch. He really had you, didn't he?"

"Remember all those times we asked gran why she didn't remarry after granddaddy died?"

Another pregnant lull.

"She'd tell us granddaddy Earl was it," Jason replied softly.

"Eric's my Earl, Jase. Eric's it."

And Eric could hear the smile in her voice. That was all he needed to know before he practically flew downstairs.

Now if he could only hide his own smile.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric.**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing! **

**Love. Love. Love!**


	37. Chapter 37

'_Cowboy up, Stackhouse, you can do this,'_ Jason gave himself a pep talk as he gently pulled the door of his sister's bedroom shut behind him. _'He's no different from all the fucktards in this town, salivating over your sister. He maybe rich but it doesn't mean he craps gold. And who cares if he's so goddamn tall and smirks like Cary Grant?'_

Jason groaned audibly. Did he just compare Eric Northman to Cary Grant?

'_Ah, shit!'_

He buttoned up his maroon and black checked shirt before he straightened his collar in an attempt to give off a look that said, _'I don't give a shit if you're Eric Northman. I'm still the man of the house.'_ He quietly made his way downstairs and cleared his throat loudly when he reached the second to the last step.

Eric fixed his gaze into the landing of the white and stained oak staircase and his shoulders sagged when he found himself staring at the wrong Stackhouse.

The Viking marched toward Jason with guarded steps before he stole a glance at the foyer, expecting to see another Stackhouse.

"She'll be down in a minute," Jason answered in a tight voice, answering his unspoken query. "I don't suppose you have a hotel lying around in Louisiana, do you?"

Eric pressed his lips together, taking in Jason's not-so-subtle dismissal. "I'm not leaving. Unless she tells me otherwise," was his curt reply.

"Ya. That's what I thought you'd say," Jason said, his lips twisting into a scowl.

They started sizing each other up as Jason gripped the arched volute at the end of the railing. He instantly regretted his decision to go all the way down the steps because now he was forced to stretch his neck to make up for the height difference. He was significantly shorter than Eric in his five-foot-ten frame but at least he was muscular. The older Stackhouse had a jock's body with the certain amount of virility and smugness that came along with it.

Jason darted his eyes at the top of the stairs before he turned his gaze at the Viking. "Can we talk?" he asked nudging his head at the door.

Eric didn't need to be told twice as he trailed Jason who started making his way into the front porch.

Alcide was standing rigidly beside his white Ford F150 that was parked beside Jason's sorry excuse for a pick-up truck. He jogged toward Jason and Eric as soon as he spotted them at the dimly lit porch. The three men that Sookie said were part of her and Eric's security detail had formed a half-circle around Alcide next to the trucks. The trio of imposing men remained rooted to their position, watching Eric and Jason with an air of cool nonchalance.

'_Arrogant thugs!' _Jason deduced. He was having trouble picturing his sister surrounded by hired muscle. But Sookie said they were an unavoidable necessity.

"You okay, man?" asked Alcide in a rumbling voice when he was only a couple of feet from Jason. And although his question was meant for Jason it was Eric who had his full attention.

Jason tucked both his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Yeah, man. All's good. Nothin' I can't handle," he said in a genial tone.

"You sure?" the wolfish man queried, unconvinced. He shot daggers at Eric as though that simple act would make the Viking recoil. No such luck.

Jason bobbed his head. "Sure, bubba. I'll see you later, 'kay? Big day," Jason responded as he tapped Alcide's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "Drive safe, bubba."

A look of utter indignation flashed across Alcide's scruffy face as he stared at Jason then at Eric. But Alcide didn't object. He gave Jason a stiff nod, blatantly ignoring the Viking, before he stomped back to his SUV that was parked at the middle of the dirt and gravel driveway.

Jason watched his friend drive away before he circled toward the backyard and went straight into the small tool shed that had certainly seen better days. It was the only part of the house that didn't get much attention from its residents. It was already showing some signs of aging with its weathered floorboards and creaky door. Its white paint was already chipping away but it was still unquestionably sturdy. Eric silently followed him inside but opted to leave the door slightly ajar.

Jason stepped inside and reached for the pull string of the hanging light bulb.

The bulb swayed gently hovering over the thick puff of dust that floated underneath. There was a long wooden table at the middle of the room filled with small clay pots, shovels of different sizes and a long rusty rake. Jason sidestepped the table and made his way to the back. He pushed a small red metal tool box to the other side with his foot before he crouched. He brushed the filth off the surface with his hands to reveal a small metal latch. Jason reached for it and it slid with a little resistance because of the amount of rust it accumulated over the years.

Jason pulled the door of the access hatch open and retrieved a burlap sack - the only thing hidden inside the shallow compartment. He walked over to the table and moved the shovels to the edge before he placed the brown bag on top. He untied the sisal rope around the sack and then unfolded the grimy cloth to reveal a long double barrel shotgun.

The male Stackhouse lifted the rifle and aimed it at Eric. To Jason's surprise, the Viking didn't even blink.

"You don't think I can do it?" Jason asked in a tone that was meant to provoke the Viking.

Eric snorted, taking a few steps forward. "Sure you can. I just don't think you're that stupid."

Jason kept the shotgun raised at Eric for a few more seconds before he lowered it. He turned the gun around, holding it by its muzzle, and pointed its butt to the approaching Viking.

Eric didn't hesitate to grab it by its stock. He ran his palm across the wooden stock and felt the smooth engraving across it. He lifted it toward the light to read the writing.

_To Adele, my divining rod. - E_

"It belonged to my granddaddy – E, for Earl. Gran didn't know he had it until after he died. It was lying on top of his body the night he was found inside the barn. For some reason my gran hated it, but couldn't seem to throw it away. She kept it here, hidden all these years," Jason said as he seized the small bench under the worktable and sat down.

Jason rested his elbows on the table, fingers steepled in front of him. He kept his gaze trained on the Viking who was examining the weaponry like a gun expert. Jason had no doubt Eric knew his way around firearms considering his line of work, not to mention the fact that he was Eric fucking Northman.

"About three months before my dad died he called and told me about that. He said 'Jason, when you're old enough I want you to learn how to use it. Use it to protect your sister.'" Jason paused when Eric tore his eyes from the gun and onto him. "Sookie told me about the slimebag Longshadow and Russell Edgington and Compton, that two-faced sonofabitch. She told me you plan to make them all pay for what they did… to our dad." He swallowed the bile that rose to his throat.

Eric put the rifle back on top of the burlap sack and leaned his palm against the table.

"That's why I want you to have that. It isn't much. Heck, I don't even know if it still works. But I want you to have it. As my way of paying you forward. No free lunch - gran always say," Jason said, his fingers tracing the cold steel of the barrel.

Eric's lips barely moved as he replied a solemn, "Thank you."

Jason sneered, huffing through his nose. "Don't thank me yet. I still won't hesitate to kick you in the nuts if you hurt my sister."

'_Maybe break both your kneecaps first then punch you in the face,'_ Jason added to himself.

"I don't doubt that for a second," Eric said unsmilingly.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck. "Sookie likes to think she's a hooligan. That she's so damn tough and that no one can hurt her. Don't buy it. Not for a sec," he uttered. "She still cries every time she watches Love Story or Home Alone or that cartoon with the old man who tied a buncha balloons to his house. Then she'll use that trick where she'll fake a yawn to cover her mouth but she's really wiping her snot so no one will notice her sniffin'."

Eric chuckled. Jason made a quick double take at the Viking, making sure the laughter was coming from him. It was. And it was distractingly disarming.

"She easily gets cold so remind her to always bring a sweater. She hates collard greens and peanut butter. She likes her meat medium well. But she won't turn away bloody meat - afraid she might offend the cook. She likes her bread with the edges burnt. That's how daddy used to do it. And don't tell her what your favorite food is. She'll pretend to be allergic to it so you can have it all to yourself." Jason tittered softly. "Mine's shrimp. Every time we have those big ass shrimps she'll tell gran to give her share to me because it makes her itch. I know she's just fakin' it but I'm a jerk and I don't get to eat shrimps a lot so I let her do it for me."

Jason scratched his left eye with the back of his hand. It was his tell, Sookie had told him. Every time he was feeling nervous or guilty he would touch his face. _'To hide the shame,'_ he deduced.

"She hates fireworks. And don't give her flowers or pets. Anythin' that dies easily." Jason saw Eric smile – not smirk - and it made the Viking a little bit likeable. Maybe his sister was right, maybe Eric Northman was capable of loving another human being.

'_Eric Northman already had one Stackhouse fooled. The likes of him should always be taken with a grain of salt,'_ Jason reminded himself.

Jason coughed before he cleared his throat. "Eric, can I ask you one thing?" He stood up, his face devoid of any gaiety. "Sookie thinks you love her. Now, I don't give a bum fuck if you really do, because I know how easy it is for someone like you to lie like a fuckin' rug. But if one day you realize you can't take care of her anymore…" Jason paused to make sure he wouldn't choke up or croak, "can you bring her back here? To me."

The Viking gave his head a slight shake, his expression changing from offended to incredulous. "Do they preach pessimism here? Or is it just a Stackhouse thing?" he retorted capped by a biting chortle.

"You think that's funny?" Jason snapped, slamming his fists on the table.

Eric stopped snickering abruptly as his expression hardened, darkness clouding his eyes. "Yes, Jason, it's fucking hilarious," he spat without a hint of levity. "Do you have any idea the kind of hell your sister has put me through? Did you think I just winked at her and she magically threw herself at me? Do you know how many times Sookie has put me through the wringer?" He sucked in a sharp breath. "Why do you think I'd leave Vegas to go to this podunk town? To get laid?"

"Then why the fuck are you here?" Jason snarled, detesting Eric's jab at his hometown. _'Uppity prick.'_

Eric's jaw set tightly, his gaze losing focus. "Because I'm a junkie, Jason. And Sookie's my fix. She's my one addiction I can't seem to flush out of my system. Believe me I tried."

'_Damn fuck!'_ Maybe he had made a mistake dismissing Alcide. This conversation just went from Hangover to American Psycho very quickly.

Jason shifted his weight to the table. "What if she's the one who wants to call it quits? What then?" Jason asked in the steadiest voice he could muster.

Eric smirked. "Now we're on the same page."

"What d'ya mean?" Jason's brows knotted in confusion.

"What I mean is between me and your sister, I'm the one who requires protective custody." The Viking ran his fingers through his hair, taking deliberate breaths. He gripped the coarse edge of the worktable so hard that his knuckles had turned white. "I'd ask her to marry me right this instant if there was a slightest possibility she would say yes."

Jason felt his heartbeat accelerate dangerously fast. He could feel his palms sweat on top of the rough surface of the wooden desk.

"But we both know that's not going to happen," Eric grumbled with a thousand-yard stare.

Jason wanted to nod his head in assent but even his body would not let him lie. Somehow he knew Eric was wrong. Sookie was not the same girl who had left Bon Temps seven weeks ago.

Eric Northman had already taken his sister. And the funny thing was Eric Northman had no fucking clue.

* * *

**E/S**

"Where've you two been?" Sookie said as she bounced off the rocking chair and practically jumped off the porch steps and raced toward them when they emerged from the side of the house.

She spied the imposing weapon slinging over Eric's shoulder. "Where'd you get that?" she asked the Viking as soon as reached him. "Jason, what the hell is this?" she turned to her brother who was eyeing her with an unreadable expression.

"Hey, you're the one who wants me to give him a warm welcome," Jason dead-panned with a casual shrug.

"And _this_ is your idea of hospitality?" Sookie yelled, aghast. "When I said welcome I meant shaking his hand and offering him a cold can of Bud. Not drag him out to god-knows-where and give him somethin' you can kill each other with!"

"See what I have to deal with?" Eric asked Jason sardonically, waving his hand up and down at the irate Sookie.

Jason smiled begrudgingly. "At least _you_ had a choice - _I_ didn't."

Sookie gasped before she swung a solid punch on Jason's gut, making her brother double over. She then whisked her body to face Eric but before she could land a blow on the Viking, Eric had caught her wrist and pulled her flush against him.

"Tsk, tsk. Wrong move, Stackhouse, you should have hit me first," Eric chided in a raspy voice. "You've eliminated the element of surprise."

Sookie tried to yank her wrist out of his grip. "Let me go and I'll surprise you," she cooed.

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" Jason screeched. "I'm right here!"

Sookie buried her face in Eric's chest, her shoulder quaked as she muffled her laughs.

"This isn't Las Vegas, chump. If you're stayin' in Casa El Stackhouse you'll have to abide by my rules," Jason declared, crossing his arms over his torso. "Rule one: you two will not be sleepin' in the same bed. We have three rooms, Sook, you sleep at gran's. You," he jabbed a finger at Eric, "can choose between Sookie's room or the couch."

The Viking turned to the smiling Sookie. "The couch sounds fine. As long as we get to keep our tradition," Eric purred, lifting her face with a finger under her chin.

Jason noticed his sister bite her lip and blush like a goddamn groupie. He knew he was missing some kind of inside joke and he already decided he didn't like its punchline.

"No!" Jason exclaimed, throwing both his hands in the air. "No couch! And again, I stress Rule-Fucking-One. There is no chance in hell I'd leave you two alone. You're like two horny matchsticks. You'd set this house on fire if I turn my back on both a you. If there's someone gettin' some action today it should be me! It's my wedding day for fuck's sake!" The vein on Jason's neck was throbbing with every syllable spat out. "And can you _please_ put some distance from each other? _Please_? That kind of closeness is not good for my blood pressure."

Sookie suppressed another fit of giggles as she eventually complied. Eric, on the other hand, lingered just a little bit before he finally let her back away.

"Thank you," Jason said exasperatedly. He took another deep breath before he resumed. "And there will be no trying on wedding dresses. Not now. Not here. Not _yet_." He shot Eric a pointed glance before he glared at his sister. "Understood?"

Sookie, who was oblivious to the meaningful exchange between the two men, looked contrite as she tugged at the hem of her oversized blue t-shirt with a picture of a furry cat on it. Eric found Sookie's hand with ease and weaved his fingers with hers. That gesture made Jason feel a little bit queasy.

"We owe you an apology. You can be sure that Sookie and I will be making amends," Eric said in his business tone. Sookie looked up at Eric and arched her brow quizzically.

"Ya better do, because I won't be able to look at that fuckin' white dress without seein' my sister in it. That's the kind of weird I'm not down with. Don't matter what you y'all say about us in the south – but we don't go marryin' our relatives."

"Jason!" Sookie squealed, her face burning to a blazing vermillion.

Eric pinched her hand softly before he spoke. "I've already made the call. My associate will be here tomorrow to make the necessary arrangements."

Sookie locked her eyes with Eric as she mouthed, "Pam?"

The Viking nodded with a roguish smile tugging at the side of his lips. "You know her - always looking for an excuse to crash the party."

Jason watched his sibling grimace and then giggle as she leaned gently against Eric's shoulder. When did Sookie turn into such a giggler, he thought in disbelief. Even the way she said Eric's name was appallingly melodious, it was making Jason's skin crawl.

The male Stackhouse heard his smitten sibling mutter something about leather and humidity and Eric responded with a low growl before he dipped his head to murmur something inaudible to her ear. Jason fought the urge to ask them what they were gushing about. If Sookie's girlish chuckle that was followed by a slap to the Viking's chest (that was obviously lacking conviction) were any indication, it was another one of their funny stories that only the two of them would understand.

Jason started to make his way back inside the house and gestured for the love-fucking-birds to follow. He was glad he had kept a couple of bottles of Red Bull in the fridge. God knows he would need them. Because there would be no way he would let those two out of his sight tonight.

_'Cheese and rice, please__ gimme a baby boy.'_ Because he didn't know if he could still handle another girl in the family.

* * *

**E/S**

It appeared that Sookie and Eric were capable of keeping their hands off each other, Jason thought as he peered at his sister's room where the Viking was sleeping like a log. His entire body swaddled inside the blanket. He closed the door that was a little ajar as he decided to give their guest more snooze time before Michele and the rest of the bridal entourage arrived at noon.

He put his old gray varsity shirt before he marched downstairs to make himself a strong cup of coffee. He would need the caffeine after the night he just had. He was glad he didn't finish the keg at his bachelor party down at Fantasia – the most popular night club in Shreveport – or he would have had an awful headache while he was muttering 'I do's'.

The unmistakable rumbling of cars outside caused him to take a U-turn to the front door on his way to the kitchen. He swept the curtain of one of the frosted door panels to peek outside. Jason blinked rapidly to make sure he wasn't imagining the line of luxury cars – a red Corvette, a silver A5 Audi, a white Land Rover and a black Cadillac Escalade – squeezing through their modest driveway.

"Good, Pam's here." Jason heard Eric say from the foyer and immediately whipped his head in the direction of the voice. The male Stackhouse's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when he saw Eric emerging from the upstairs bathroom followed by his sister, both looking freshly showered.

"Shut my mouth!" Jason yelled. "How – what—I just saw you sleepin' in her room!"

'_Dammit! I've been duped!'_ Jason thought it was dumb of him to fall for the pillows-under-the-blanket trick. Northern Louisiana in August was definitely a no-blanket weather.

Sookie ran downstairs, a disgustingly happy smile on her face, her hair still dripping wet. She was wearing an unfamiliar yellow sundress while Eric was sporting a blue and gray plaid shirt and stonewashed jeans. There was something very domestic about the way they looked together and Jason didn't like it. Not one bit.

Eric sauntered down the steps - a cheshire grin on his lips— probably the result of a very heated shower, Jason thought grimly.

"I clearly remember Jason's rule was strictly no sleeping together. He didn't say anything about bathing together. Did he, sweetheart?" Eric drawled indulgently as he took his post behind Sookie, wrapping his arms around her middle.

Sookie drew her brows in mock confusion, pressing her index finger on her chin, before she shook her head. "Nope. Nothing's said about communal shower."

Jason's jaw dropped. He could feel his cholesterol level rising as he contemplated ways he could pummel a Viking.

But before Jason could clench his hands into fists, _they_ laughed. Sookie and the bastard behind her were cackling like a couple of brats.

"Oh my lord, you should have seen the look on your face, Jase!" Sookie spat haltingly amid her guffaws.

'_What. The. Fuck.'_

"Relax, Jase. Nothin' happened. We took separate baths. I swear. We're just messin' with you," Sookie said as her laughter tapered off. "You're takin' this big brother role way too seriously. C'mon, smooth your worry lines and let's go meet Pam. You'll love her."

Jason's hand flew to his temple and searched for the 'worry lines' he was certain he didn't have. He had flawless skin, dammit, as smooth as a baby's buttocks his former partners would gush. It was his thing.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he confirmed the lack of crease on his forehead.

'_Dog burn it, Sook!' _Forty days with that Viking and she was already pulling pranks like a pro. Jason groaned. Eric Northman was a bad influence to his sister. That he was sure of.

He walked over to the porch and spotted Sookie throw her arms around the neck of a beautiful blonde. The newcomer was gorgeous in a crisp white blouse and short black skirt that accentuated her legs that seemed to go on forever. Sookie was grinning from ear to ear as she beamed at the visitor.

Sookie was gleaming.

And Jason realized he liked that his sister was glowing. She had been in a bad place for a long time. She rarely smiled, much less laughed. She deserved the sunshine. Jason watched Eric walk up to Sookie, and like last night, their hands found each other in the most natural of ways. Sookie glanced back to the house and waved at Jason to come over.

The older Stackhouse waved back as he sighed. Eric Northman was, without question, a bad influence. But if Eric Northman could make his sister smile like that more often, then maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

**E/S**

The soft knocks at the door startled Sookie as she was pinning some loose hair in her chignon. She was wearing the pale pink one-shoulder bridesmaid dress that Pam insisted she wore.

"It's open," she called out, knowing exactly who was at the other side of the door.

Eric stepped in, debonair and dashing in his black suit paired with a black tie and white shirt. It was simple but still not simple enough not to draw crowds. He would surely be the talk of the town. The celebrity that the locals would embrace and gush over for months.

"You do know it's rude to look prettier than the bride," he husked taking languid strides toward her.

She stood up from her seat and faced him. "You're one to talk," she replied, her eyes raking his form. He was holding a blue flat box with one hand and a wrist corsage of pink alstroemeria blossoms in the other.

Eric came through with his promise to make amends for Sookie's faux pax last night. He almost made Michele faint when he walked up to her house and apologized for the unfortunate demise of her bridal gown. He had told the petite brunette that he accidentally set it on fire when he and Jason were having celebratory cigars for the upcoming matrimony.

"Who would've thought that tulle and chiffon were so flammable? Good thing your future husband was quick to put out the fire," Eric had quipped with a nod in the direction of the discomfited Jason. Eric's explanation was downright preposterous. Who would light up a tobacco in a room full of delicate gowns? But even the Bon Temps' locals, who knew very little of the Viking's reputation, were astute enough not to dispute his claim.

The Viking's notorious charm proved its usefulness when he offered to replace not only the charred dresses but also supply the entire matrimonial accouterment of the wedding party. Sheriff Bud Dearborn looked relieved but still pretended to protest. Long story short, Eric Northman won the Dearborns over with his checkbook and patented smirk.

Pam had booked the biggest suite at the Remington in Shreveport. It was an hour drive from the chapel in Bon Temps but Michele didn't mind. She was promised a queenly treatment by the Viking and she was not about to say no to that.

Michele had quickly forgotten about her Alexander McQueen knockoff when Pam started lining up original Vera Wangs and Monique Lhuilliers that had been flown all the way from Vegas for her to choose from. The bridesmaids, along with Sookie, were brought to the couturier in downtown Shreveport to handpick their gowns as long as they keep up with the pink motif. (And under strict orders not to get something that would outshine the bride.)

Michele's two cousins, who had taken the train from Arkansas to Nola, were elated to ditch their hideous dresses that the bride had so cunningly chosen for them. Two hours later they were driving back to the hotel where Emmanuel– Pam's personal stylist – and his crew were waiting to get them all dolled up.

Sookie politely turned down Manny's services. Still remorseful for what she did to Michele's dress, she opted to go back to Bon Temps. She insisted to help the organizers that Pam had brought with her from Vegas with the last-minute touch ups at the reception, which would be held at the town hall. The Southerner had not seen Eric since he had left with Jason to talk to the Dearborns. As the ceremony drew closer, Sookie could only steel herself for the badgering she would suffer by bringing the man who was the biggest hurricane to hit the Gulf coast after Katrina.

If only Katrina was as beautiful as her Viking, she mused as she kept staring at him.

Eric held up the corsage to her as he put the jewellery box on top of the dresser. (Of course she could tell it was a Tiffany's box. She only hoped it wasn't as expensive as the farmhouse itself.) She wanted to tell him she didn't need any more accessories. _He_ was already too much.

She quirked her brow when he reached for her hand.

"Before you start telling me how you hate flowers, this is technically not a gift. All the bridesmaids are required to wear this - bride's order," Eric said as he tied the intricate bouquet around her wrist.

"It's scary how well you know me," she hushed, studying him closely as he held up her arm and placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand.

"I can read minds, didn't you know?"

"Oh really?" she cooed. "And what am I thinkin' right now?"

Eric stifled a grin as he locked gazes with her. "You're thinking…" he began drawing circles in her palm, "damn, my boyfriend looks very hot tonight, maybe we should just skip the wedding and go straight to the honeymoon."

Sookie tossed her head back and laughed, her other palm pressed against his chest.

"But because I'm the voice of reason, I'll tell you, no, Sookie we can't do that to your brother. But you will insist on it and I will be utterly helpless against you," he continued.

"Helpless?" she asked, grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him down.

"Utterly," he rasped.

"You're really good at this mind-reading thing," she murmured, her fingers playing with the short hair at his nape.

"I have to be. To live up to my billing because apparently, _I'm it_," he said, his lips tugging at the side.

Sookie drew back, stunned. "You heard that?"

He nodded. "With my super hearing ability."

"You cocky jerk!" she squeaked, more embarrassed than annoyed. "So I guess that's why you think it's okay to give me somethin' criminally expensive," she chided, tilting her head toward the box at the dresser.

"Oh that?" he queried casually. "Go on, open it."

Sookie bit her lip before she untangled her arms around his neck and reached for the intimidating package. She pulled the white velvet ribbon and lifted the cover. Inside was a pearl necklace, the silvery-white gem with the iridescent glow that made the chain more enchanting when struck with light.

Sookie's breath hitched as she raised her head to look at the Viking who was eyeing her every move. "Eric, it's…"

"Not for you," the Viking cut her off, making her eyebrows shoot up to her temple. "It's our gift for Michele. Every bride needs a perfect set of pearls. And this…" he pulled a long white envelope from the inner pocket of his suit. "is for Jason."

Sookie took the envelope that had the North's insignia on it. She quickly read the note inside it and couldn't help but strangle a small gasp. It was a gift certificate for Jason and Michele Stackhouse for a two-week all expense paid vacation in Las Vegas.

"Pam suggested Paris but I thought a Parisian getaway is overrated and too much of a cliche. And I thought Jason would like to spend his honeymoon closer to his sister," he said, stroking her cheek tenderly. "I only hope he won't try to cockblock me every chance he gets. I won't tolerate that. They're getting blue as we speak." He bobbed his head, pointing in the direction of his crotch.

Sookie couldn't help but chortle. She swallowed thickly as she felt her eyes burn. She had promised herself she wasn't going to cry but she should have known Eric would not make it easy for her.

"You're too good to me," she said as she choked back a sob. She thanked her lucky stars that Pam was still downstairs and could help her fix her make-up should she mess it up.

"You haven't seen anything yet," he murmured, his tapered fingers now caressing her neck, admiring Pam's handiwork at covering Sookie's faded hickeys a few inches above her breasts.

"I think I've seen enough." She _had_ seen enough. She was certain Eric still had something extremely romantic up his sleeves. Something that would blow her away. But he didn't really have to, she was already sold.

So she did the only logical thing she could do to convey her message. She kissed him. She captured his lips and let her tongue do the talking.

He was the first to pull away, breathing heavily against her cheek. "We should go while I can still restrain myself from tearing your clothes apart."

Sookie chuckled as she wiped the lipstick smear around his mouth. "I should warn you, though. I cannot promise that you won't be swarmed with women. Hormonal and horny women. They will not care if you're with me. And there's a big possibility that you'd be kidnapped by my former boss and turned into a sex slave."

The Viking's booming laughter echoed across the walls. He smirked as he ran his fingers through his slightly tousled hair. "You should know by now, Sookie, everywhere I go there will be women – and other times some very enthusiastic men, too."

'_Lucky me.'_

* * *

**E/S **

"Do we really have to go to church in this?" Sookie whined as Eric ushered her inside the red Corvette. "What happened to not drawing attention to ourselves?"

"We'll be using the back door. They won't even see us coming," Eric replied with a wink. He directed his gaze to Pam who was lounging at the side of the passenger door of the silver Audi. Jake Purifoy would be the leggy blonde's designated driver as they formed a convoy for Eric and Sookie with Roman and Clancy behind them in the Land Rover.

"I'll be right back," Eric told his high-strung passenger before he sauntered toward his second-in-command.

"Did you bring it?" he asked Pam in a hushed tone.

Pamela, who exuded cool elegance in her magenta strapless, knee-length cocktail dress, nodded yes. "It's in the car. I don't trust the hotel safe here."

"Have you opened it?" Eric asked again, stealing a casual glimpse at the Corvette.

"I haven't. It's encrypted. I assume you know the code," Pam replied. "The courier was in a hurry to get back to Zurich. But he assured me that the case is the only content of Godric's safety deposit box."

Eric knew the code of the specially-designed metal attaché case that was lying inside the backseat of the Audi. It was the number equivalent of Eric's second name, Johan, in random order. Godric had the same combination for his safety deposit box in London. Very few people knew of the Viking's full name, he doubted anyone would be clever enough to jumble them either.

"I'll get to it after the reception. Don't let it out of your sight. The Bugsy is in there," Eric whispered conspiratorially.

"But it's not the Bugsy you're concerned about, am I right?" Pam inquired, directing her eyes toward the girl inside the red Corvette.

Eric gave Pam an admonishing glare. She had been pestering him with incisive questions since he had called her last night and asked her to bring the package that came in yesterday from the Swiss bank. He had missed the arrival of the messenger when he jetted off to Louisiana hastily after he had gotten rid of the Federal agents. Pam knew that aside from the Benjamin Siegel platinum chip, there was one more thing inside the case that Godric had kept hidden. Something Godric treasured most among all his material possessions: Eric's mother's engagement ring. The ring that had taken Godric five years to purchase. Because his lovely Sonja deserved nothing but the best.

"I want it resized first thing tomorrow. Go to New Orleans. I don't think this town has a decent jeweller," he grumbled, checking the time in his wrist.

"Why not wait until we're back in Vegas then? Do you plan to propose right away? Aren't you jumping the gun a bit here, Eric?" Pam asked, staring at him probingly. "Are you even sure she's ready? Are _you_ ready?"

He shot Pam a poignant glance before he dropped his gaze back to the case. "I don't know."

"What kind of answer is that?" the leggy blonde snapped. "Are you or are you not?"

"I am," he spat quickly.

"And Sookie?"

The mild shaking of his head was almost indiscernible.

"What if she says no?"

"Then I'd ask her again, and again, and again. Until I get the right answer."

"Why don't we wait until you get the answer you want, then we'll have it resized. I love Sookie and all but I think this whole thing is a bit premature, don't you?"

He cast another glance at Sookie then raised his finger, asking for another minute when she started beckoning him with urgent flicks of hand.

"Have it done tomorrow, Pam. I want it to be ready when she is," Eric said before he started marching back to the car.

That ring was made for a Northman, he thought. And there was no doubt in his mind that Sookie Stackhouse would be a Northman.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric.**

**Thank you, thank you to all who had taken the time to read and leave reviews. This chapter's a bit slow but it'll pick up pace soon, I promise. Check out lei's gorgeous banners at fantasybanners dot wordpress dot com. Thank you!**

**Love. Love. Love!**


	38. Chapter 38

Weddings in the South always cause a certain kind of commotion. Especially in a place so tightly knit as Bon Temps where everyone was always, _always_ related to the bride or the groom.

Not tonight, though.

As guests started taking their places at the old fashioned pews adorned with beautiful, blooming azaleas and magnolias, it was becoming evident that the right side –the groom's side— had more seats to fill.

There were no distant relatives who couldn't stand each other. No grandparents who couldn't stop complaining about the weather or the tardiness of the wedding party. No mother who couldn't keep her tears at bay and no father to give his son away with a soft pat in the back.

The only people occupying the pews were Jason's old high school buddies, the Fortenberry's, the Herveaux's and Sookie's old coworkers from Lafayette's –with the exception of the flamboyant Lafayette himself, who was forced to hang back a bit to close his pub.

The double oak doors closed briefly before it swung wide open again to let in two men in identical light charcoal suits followed by a stunning blonde in a magenta dress and a gray cashmere shawl. Heads swiveled toward the aisle to gape at the newcomers who were obviously not from Louisiana.

But just like in all nuptials, the last person to walk down the aisle was the one to get the most attention.

A collective gasp followed by hushed murmurs echoed inside St. John the Baptist chapel as the Viking walked in with his signature swagger. Clenching his jaws, he kept moving forward without sparing anyone a glance until he reached the second pew from the altar. The family's pew.

Pam, Jake and Clancy were already seated. They kept a considerable distance from each other to be able to fill the entire length of the bench to discourage anyone brazen enough to sit with them. Eric sat at the edge so he could be closest to the aisle. Strategically, Pam took her post beside him, creating a hazmat zone around the Viking with her vicious glare.

Before long the groom's side was packed with guests who wanted to get closer to the towering presence with hypnotic blue eyes.

A redhead and a brunette scampered at the bench behind Eric murmuring like a couple of rabid tweens. Pam resisted the urge to raise her eyebrow at them. It was a lot harder than she thought.

Pam tried to tune out the shameless whispers as her eyes raked over the surrounding. It was a small traditional chapel with stained glass windows and whitewashed planked wood ceiling. Antique wrought iron chandeliers added a dash of sophistication to the otherwise horrid piece of architecture. The delicate scent of the flowers that were meticulously tied to the hardwood pew ends wafted in the air, drowning the stale Louisiana air.

"Tell me again why I need to sit through this shit," she hissed through gritted teeth.

Eric sighed. "Quit being so dramatic. It won't kill you to mainstream once in a while."

Pam rolled her eyes. As much as she loved Eric and Sookie she hardly thought her dedication to them was enough to outweigh her growing hatred toward gatherings like these.

God, she missed Las Vegas, where matrimonies were less demanding and more succinct. It didn't even matter if you were of sound mind - as long as you could slur your vows and keep yourself vertical long enough for Elvis to pronounce you man and wife. Oh, and if you have two hundred bucks to cover the entire wedding package.

Pam clasped her hands together and put them on top of her knees to straighten her posture. She thanked her patron saint Oscar de la Renta for not letting her wear stockings or she would be sweating like an Arab in customs inside the poorly ventilated chapel. Uncrossing her ankles from under the long wooden backed bench, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Will you please stop squirming? It's very unbecoming," Eric chastised her again before he darted a glance down at his wrist watch.

Before Pam could form a rejoinder, the double doors at the back tore open again greeted by the passable sound of Pachelbel's Canon D from the small pipe organ beside the pulpit announcing the entrance of the entourage.

The guests started to rise on cue as a train of people made a beeline to the altar. It was led by Sookie's brother who looked startlingly appealing in his khaki suit, light blue dress shirt and black pinstripe tie.

The sudden melancholia that stabbed Pam at the sight of the groom marching down the aisle alone was unexpected and very upsetting for the hard-hearted blonde. She quashed the feeling immediately. Jason had barely spoken three words to her and one them was 'Howdy'. So, no, they were not friends. The role of the annoyingly dorky friend was already taken by Sam Merlotte.

Small girls in pink lace gowns holding a basket of flower petals started leaving a trail of roses behind them followed by two pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen with arms linked together.

Pam noticed the sudden stiffness in Eric's otherwise flawless form when he spotted Sookie and Alcide walking hand in hand rather awkwardly. The leggy blonde could hardly stifle a snicker when she saw Sookie make a small waving gesture at Eric by wiggling her fingers that were wrapped around her bouquet of pink and white magnolias. With Eric's back to her, Pam couldn't see what the Viking did in return but she could only guess it was something eye-twitchingly schmaltzy judging by the pinkish tint on Sookie's cheeks and the painful scowl on her escort's face.

The maid of honor waltzed in next trailed by the bride with her parents. Michele was radiant in her strapless Vera Wang princess cut gown with a long flowing train with specks of crystals that glittered like diamonds against the red carpet. Her dark brown hair was arranged into an elaborate French braid to accentuate the elegant string of pearls around her neck. She looked every bit the perfect bride. But as Michele passed rows after rows of familiar faces who gave her perfunctory nods and smiles, she knew she was no longer the main attraction.

The rest of the ceremony was forgettable. Michele choked back her sobs midway through her vows, while Jason stuttered through his. One of the flower girls reminded Pam why she planned on eating her young when the sweet little angel threw a hell of a tantrum in the middle of the sermon. The girl punctuated her scene-stealing rampage with an ear-splitting shriek as she dumped the rest of her petals on her father's lap. Pam swore the vein on the little girl's dad's receding hairline could be seen from Google Earth.

The maid of honor – who kept batting her false eyelashes at Eric - almost caused a fire when she tripped on the bride's train while she was lighting up the unity candle. It took all of Pam's willpower not to laugh out loud, really.

Oh well, it would not be a wedding without minor disasters, she thought with gaiety.

And who would remember any of it if they could just tune in to the Eric and Sookie side show. Featuring two morons who thought they had suddenly turned invisible and that no one could see them steal glances at each other from opposite ends of the room. It was comical how they tried to keep their impassive expressions on throughout the service, nonchalantly shifting from their seats before they gently and ever so casually tilt their heads to the side. If they were lucky – and they were, most of the time – their eyes would meet and linger just a little bit longer.

Pam had kept track of the 'lingering gazes'. Thirty-two in total. In a little over 60 minutes, Eric and Sookie caught a glimpse of each other 32 times. Not counting the instances when one of them looked while the other one was busy pretending to do something else.

Pam was a bad poker player. She didn't have the face that could bluff anyone, Eric had told her many times in the past. But as she watched two of the best gamblers she knew tried to disguise their yearning for each other she couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle.

Eric looked disapprovingly at her.

She covered her mouth and flicked her hand dismissively. She didn't have the heart to tell him that they should just drop the act. Anyone with two eyes could see Eric and Sookie were more in love than the couple at the altar.

* * *

**E/S**

Pam marvelled at her shimmery polished nails that were magnificent against the white linen cloth as she drummed her fingers impatiently on top of the round table. She had survived the hour-long wedding service. But her suffering was far from over.

Thanks to Pam's ingenuity, the reception was pushed to the back of the town hall instead of the old, spider-infested assembly room that reeked of mold and mildew. The municipal house had a big garden at the back. And if there were something the Southerners were good at it was keeping their gardens in pristine condition. It was the perfect setting for the dinner reception. Oval paper lanterns in coral pink hung from the trees illuminating the way to the big white tent on the right side of the garden. Small ivory-colored glass tealight holders were hanging from shepherd hooks surrounding the outside of the tent. Mason jars with colorful bouquets of seasonal flowers could be found in every guest tables. The head table which was positioned perpendicular to the stage where Jason and Michele would sit had an ornate iron basket filled with azaleas, lilies and magnolias.

There was a long table for the buffet at one side, while a makeshift bar with a professional bartender for everyone's disposal was at the opposite part of the room. A special counter was also allotted only for sweet tea, lemonade and Coca Colas in vintage bottles. The three-tiered chocolate marble cake, which the bride ordered from Shreveport two weeks ago, was at the table beside the newlyweds. Along with the groom's cake that was the shape of a football – Jason's favorite sport.

It was all Pam's doing. All except for the food because it was impossible, even for a Wedding Planner Extraordinaire like her, to get a decent caterer with the amount of time she had. She would have called Marco Alfonso but the Italian chef was in Florence visiting old relatives. Curse Marco and his wrinkly _Nonna_.

Pam reached for her glass of sparkling Perignon – her second for the night and the only dinner she insists on having. There was no way in hell she would willingly ingest anything from that buffet table. The wide selection of carbs and fried vegetables were enough to wipe out this town with an outbreak of coronary heart disease—or acne, whichever comes first. And the big servings of gumbo, jambalaya and chicken creole only fortified her resolve to resort to liquid diet. She had only been in Louisiana for ten hours and she could already feel her pore-less skin absorbs grease from all the deep-fried food in front of her. She doubted even an entire pot of La Mer could fix the damage being done to her immaculate skin.

Pam sighed. She was certain there was a better form of torture somewhere in Pyongyang than being stuck in this backwater dump that was swarming with people who thought it was acceptable to wear polyester in summer. At least the guards in North Korea would shoot her pointblank if she tried to escape and not kill her slowly with sweet tea and fried okra.

Sookie was all over the room exchanging pleasantries and small chitchat with old acquaintances, leaving Eric helpless against the herd of bison that kept attacking their table, introducing themselves while trying to keep their gushing to the bare minimum.

Pam swore under her breath. By god, if she heard one more person drawl Ewic Nowthman in that atrocious Southern twang, she would stab her ear with a used fork. Thankfully, the dancing started and the plethora of women in horrid sundresses directed their energy to the floor.

But she should have known that the worst was yet to come.

A few minutes after the newlyweds took the floor for their first waltz, a black guy wearing a gold bandana, a snakeskin tunic and brown leather pants foxtrotted toward them.

'_If he isn't gay, I'm going to piano wire him for wearing snakeskin to a wedding,'_ Pam thought venomously.

He introduced himself as Lafayette Reynolds, 'Soo-Soo's ex-boss and present BFF' (his words, not Pam's). She was mildly surprised when Eric decided to humor the black Ricky Martin and his senseless blathering. The Viking even offered him a room at the North should the flaming rainbow decided to go to Vegas.

Pam bit back a laugh. Oh, the things Eric would do for Sookie, she thought amusedly.

After a while Eric excused himself and asked Pam to dance. She knew it was his way to avoid anymore intrusions. Sookie, on the other hand, was busy prancing with her brother when Sheriff Dearborn decided to cut in and waltz with his daughter.

"I have to say, you've certainly outdone yourself. The place looks lovely," Eric complimented as they swayed to the slow country music. "I'm sure they," he tilted his head to Jason and Sookie, "appreciate it."

"I'm confused. Did you mean Jason or Sookie?" she teased as she held onto Eric's shoulder. A coy smile dancing on her lips.

He replied with a shrug as he directed his gaze to his blithe lover just a few paces from him.

Pam didn't need to verbalize it. Eric finally cracked the code. The easiest way to Sookie's heart was through the people she cared about. That was why Eric wanted to give Jason a fancy wedding or why he spent time talking to her friends.

"Uh-oh, it seems the pesky yeti's making a move at six o'clock," Pam murmured nudging her head forward. Eric whirled Pam around to peek at Alcide who was indeed making his way to the Stackhouses with long purposeful strides.

Eric shrugged nonchalantly. "I no longer feel threatened by the sneeze. It only took me a month to do what he couldn't accomplish in years. _I got the girl_," he replied with cool arrogance.

Pam's lips tugged at the side. Eric could be real cocky sometimes.

Even though Eric said he didn't mind, his body posture said otherwise. And judging by the loosening of his grip around her waist she could tell Eric was only biding his time before he could swoop in to whisk Sookie away from the yeti.

"Where were you earlier? Your shopping trip with Jason took a lot longer than I thought," Pam murmured, changing the topic before Eric decides to leave her in the middle of the dance floor.

Eric tore his gaze away from Sookie and Alcide. "The sheriff and I had a little chat," was his curt response.

"About?"

"I asked him – politely, of course – to open her grandfather's case. They didn't catch the thieves who murdered him," his voice dropping lower.

"Why would you do that? Don't you have a lot on your plate with Russell already? Besides, it was at least five decades ago. His killer was either too old to put behind bars or already rotting in his grave just like their granddaddy." Even with the amount of time she had been with Eric, he could still stump her sometimes.

"There's something off with the etching on Earl's rifle. You've seen it, yes? Why would you call your wife a divining rod, knowing exactly what those words mean?" Eric gave the shotgun to Pam for safekeeping when she arrived in Bon Temps. She had asked Eric what the phrase meant and according to Sookie it was synonymous for magnet of doom.

"Have you told Sookie?"

Eric shook his head. "I told Jason and he agreed with me. I'll tell Sookie later tonight. Sheriff Dearborn already agreed to open the cold case and his deputy had given me the file. They found two set of prints on the barrel, one of them belonged to Earl. Since Bon Temps doesn't have the best forensic team, I'll bring it to Vegas so Sam could give it to his buddies in the CSU maybe they could run the prints through AFIS."

Pam let out a hollow chuckle. "I hope you're not just shooting yourself in the foot here, Eric. Opening a cold case like that could mean another heartbreak for Sookie."

Eric pursed his lips before he gave a slight shrug. "I know Sookie. She wouldn't mind getting some kind of closure. I know that's what her gran would have wanted."

The music stopped abruptly, plucking Eric and Pam from their serious conversation. The host, an attractive Caucasian male with spiky hair and thick Tennessee accent, tapped his champagne flute with a fork creating a high-pitched noise from the microphone.

"It's time for the toasts!" he announced as the guests went back to their tables.

Eric reflexively searched for Sookie. She was still in the middle of the floor talking to Michele and Jason.

Pam wondered what the Stackhouses were talking about but whatever it was, Sookie was evidently taken aback. Pam quirked her eyebrow in a mix of confusion and mirth as she watched Sookie blanch dramatically before the Southerner sagged her shoulders and traipsed back to their table.

Eric helped Sookie to her seat, rubbing her arms soothingly. "What's that about?"

Sookie didn't offer a response as she reached for the glass of Merlot in front of him. "Can I have this?" she asked. Without waiting for a reply she chugged it down in one gulp. "Oh god, I need somethin' stronger," she cried putting the stemmed glass back on the table.

"What the fuck are you blabbering about?" Pam spat, a touch of levity in her voice.

"They want me to make a toast," Sookie snapped back. "Me! Because I'm the only livin' member of the family I'm obliged to give a frickin' speech!"

Eric and Pam exchanged a look before they sniggered at the same time.

Sookie slapped Eric at the shoulder with the back of her hand, "Don't you laugh! Don't you dare find amusement in my misery! You know how I hate the spotlight. I don't do public speaking. That's your thing!" she whisper-yelled at Eric. "What am I supposed to say? I don't even know how they met in the first place. And I don't think they'd appreciate it if I say, 'here's to the lovely couple who realized a little too late that condom only works 99 percent of the time.'"

Pam almost choked on her drink. She quickly put her flute down before she wiped the side of her mouth with the white table napkin. "It's better if you open with that," she prodded Sookie haltingly, trying to control her laughter.

"I'm gonna faint up there," Sookie said defeatedly leaning her head on Eric's shoulder.

"I'll catch you," he managed to blurt out before he could catch the cheese coming out of his mouth. He immediately shot Pam a warning glare as though telling her 'to zip it if you know what's good for you.'

Pam sneered defiantly but kept her snarky comment to herself. She would have plenty of time to give Eric a good ribbing in Vegas.

"Don't worry, Soo-Soo," Pam cooed, mimicking Lafayette's pet name to Sookie, "if you make a complete fool of yourself out there, Eric will just take off his shirt to draw the attention off of you," Pam finished with a sly wink.

Before Sookie could roll her eyes and slam back another glass of wine, the host called her name. Pam spied Eric giving Sookie's hand a squeeze before he helped her up. The nervous Southerner kept her footing steady in her three-inch Balenciaga stilettos. (God bless Sookie's ignorance in shoe brands or Pam would have a hard time getting Sookie to wear them.)

'_This is gonna be good y'all,' _Pam thought wickedly as Sookie took the mic from the overly enthusiastic host.

The audio gave off another high-octave shriek making the Southerner jump back a little. The host seized the microphone and did a little 'testing, testing,' while patting the mic's silver head. He returned it to dangerously pale Sookie who was fiddling with her corsage.

"Hello, hi," she croaked. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse. I'm the sister of the groom," she continued, stating the obvious. "Well, y'all probably know that already, otherwise you're clearly at the wrong reception."

Mercifully, some guests snickered at her attempt at humor.

"I'm sorry I'm not really good at this," she smiled apologetically at the crowd before she inhaled deeply. "Well, not just public speakin' but the whole idea in gen'ral. I bet anyone who knows me personally can attest to my aversion to weddings. And I know my gran will roll over in her grave if she hears me say this, but I never really believed in matrimony."

Sookie really had a way to make things turn a sharp one eighty degrees, Pam thought with an internal sigh. There were no more giggles or short chuckles. Only a defeaning silence that was punctuated by Mrs. Fortenberry's fork that fell on top of her plate with a shrill clank.

Pam saw Sookie shift the mic to her other hand. Her palm was probably sweating profusely. Maybe it was time to tell Eric to start unbuttoning his shirt. Pam looked around and noticed Jason purse his lips and shake his head slightly, probably wondering what had possessed him to ask his pessimistic sister to give a speech.

Sookie darted her tongue out and moistened her lips before she resumed. "I- I thought marriage isn't meant for everybody. And for a long time Jase and I believed it wasn't for us."

'_Oh. Hell. No.'_

Pam's eyes instantly fell on Eric and her chest tightened when she noticed him flinch and drop his gaze to the floor. Before he could avert his eyes, Pam saw something in them, anxiety perhaps, and for a fleeting moment she thought he would stand up and leave the room.

'_Goddamit, Sookie! I'm going to punch your teeth in if you don't have a BUT somewhere in that fucking speech.'_

Jason was nonplussed as he gripped Michele's hand that was resting on top of the table. He looked sideways and smiled ruefully at the guests. Pam had no doubt Jason would help her strangle Sookie as soon as the Southerner stepped off the stage. Even Michele couldn't look at her sister-in-law anymore as she lowered her gaze at the wedding band in her left hand, twirling it with her thumb, probably pondering if it were too late to give it back.

For a moment, it was complete painful silence. Sookie turned her head to Michele and Jason's corner before she fixed her gaze in one of the guest tables. _Their_ table. At first Pam thought Sookie was looking for a rescue team but then she spoke again. Softer but steadier this time.

"But I guess there'll always be that someone who's hell-bent on proving us wrong, huh?" Sookie quipped with a nervous chuckle. Pam stared at the bridal table and noticed Jason lean his head on top of Michele's, giving it a soft kiss, careful not to ruffle her intricate 'do.

Sookie wasn't looking at the newlyweds, though. Her attention was fixed on the Viking who had lifted his head and cocked his brows at her.

The Southerner smiled. "You know… that someone who will hug you when you're sleepin' when he realizes it's useless to fight you off for his portion of the blanket. Someone who'll kiss you when you wake up without complaining about your morning breath. Someone who'll bring you Chinese food because he knows you haven't had dinner yet. Or eat whatever you cook and pretend to like it, stray eggshells and all," she paused as she blinked rapidly.

Pam had seen enough gamblers weeping in desperation to know how to spot someone who was trying so hard to push back their tears. "Someone who'll bring you chocolate-dipped doughnuts and _not_ hold your hand when you're PMS-ing."

That one actually drew a lot of sniggers from the young women in the room.

Sookie laughed with them as she casually wiped the bottom of her nose with the back of her index finger. "And that someone who sees all your craziness but still think you're sane. That one person who'll take one look at you and know there's somethin' wrong. Someone who's not afraid to disagree with you and fight you for what he believes in. But it's okay because arguin' with him is still a hundred times better than not bein' with him at all." Her voice was getting nasal, betraying her like a traitor.

However, Pam thought Sookie shouldn't be too concerned about people noticing her croaky voice. Because at that point almost every head in the room was pointed at their table, more specifically at Eric. And while practically every guests – even the newlyweds – were watching _his_ reaction to Sookie's badly-disguised soliloquy, _he_ was watching _her_.

Sookie pinched her nose before she smiled at the audience, "At first I thought marriage was only for fools. But I didn't realize we'll all be fools at one point in our lives. All it takes is one more idiot to make you believe that it's alright to be foolish. It's okay to let go and be shamelessly happy. Because it's worth a darn shot. _You're_ worth a shot." Sookie tipped her stemmed glass in the Viking's direction before she returned her attention to Jason and Michele who were gaping at her as though Sookie had just crawled out of her skin.

The Southerner paused to shift her weight to her other foot. "To Jase and Michele," she toasted, raising her glass to the dumbstruck couple, "for finding that someone in each other."

"Hear, hear!" the crowd roared followed by the sound of glasses clinking. Pam smirked. She knew the last part of Sookie's speech was an afterthought, as though the Southerner had been lost in a stupor and just remembered she was supposed to give a damn toast.

"Son of a bitch," Pam hissed. "That wasn't a toast. It was a fucking proposal!" she blurted out with a wide, disbelieving grin. She turned her head to Eric but he was already off his seat as the Viking dashed to the stage to meet the cocky Southerner who poured her out heart in front of the whole fucking town.

Pam sprung off her chair and made her way to the exit. She had no doubt that it was where Eric and Sookie were heading. Then right on cue, two blonde heads ducked as they slithered to the service entrance that was meant only for the caterers.

"Eric!" Pam called in a suppressed yell. The Viking turned to her with an impatient glower. "You'd be needing this," she hollered as she threw him the keys to the Audi.

The Viking caught the key with ease before he nodded with a muted 'thanks.'

Pam strolled to the bar and ordered a dry martini with two olives. She finished it quickly then asked for another one. She could finally let herself get drunk to drown the trill murmurs of the gossiping rednecks. She didn't need to get up early tomorrow to go to New Orleans anymore. The Northman ring would be handed to its owner tonight. That she was sure of.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own TB.**

**I know, I know. It's verbose and still too damn slow. But please indulge me. I love Spammy and if Jason gets his own chapter then so will the snarky bitch. It's supposed to be one long chapter but it got away from me.**

**Thanks so very much for reading and giving me feedback. They are truly lovely. A big shoutout to my Jersey girls Treewitch703 and MyVikingBoyfriend!**

**No beta, forgive the mistakes.**

**Love. Love. Love!**


	39. Chapter 39

Alcide Herveaux knew the exact moment he fell in love with Sookie Stackhouse.

It was a Saturday, the 18th of October. The year her father died. It was relatively warm that day despite the season. He was there as a favor for his best friend. Jason would be starting quarterback that schoolyear and he wanted Alcide to assess his game. But before the suicide drills had begun, _she_ came - Jason's notorious tomboyish sibling. She was riding her old bike, pedalling like a man who just robbed a bank.

Digging the heel of her worn out white sneakers on the freshly trimmed grass, she slowed down and stopped right in front of her brother. Her pony tail had drooped making her hair stick out wildly in all direction. Her faded blue shirt had a sweat-dampened shadow just below her neck and her khaki shorts that looked like one of Jason's old elementary school uniform - cut just above the knees - had stretched around her thighs. Her cheeks had the tint of maple leaves in Autumn as she swatted beads of sweat off her forehead.

Alcide hopped off the wooden bleachers and dashed to where the Stackhouse siblings were. He could hear some of Jason's teammates whisper and snigger as he was approaching. Drawing his eyebrows together he scowled at them. The juvenile jocks turned around and resumed their preliminary stretching. Alcide was the star quarterback in his high school in Shreveport and although he was two years older than Jason, his reputation in football was something not to be taken lightly.

Sookie swung her legs off the bicycle as she pried a two-stack stainless steel container from the metal net basket. Alcide was certain she knew that she was the source of the other players' amusement, but she didn't seem to mind.

"You forgot your lunch, dumbo," she said, extending her hand to Jason. The older Stackhouse wrinkled his nose as he seized her hand that was holding the food container and pushed it away from him.

"I left it on purpose," Jason pointed out, scratching the tip of his nose while craning his neck to look back to his teammates. "Y'know I'm allergic to grits."

She laughed out loud. The hollow kind that was meant to mock. "You mean second-day grits?" she said in a sing-song voice while tilting her head to the side. Pushing the lunch box to his chest she straightened her stance and said, "Take it, princess. When we win the lottery, I promise no more grits. But until then you'll eat what we can afford."

Her tone was firm and bossy, but in the warmest of way.

As Alcide watched her ride off in her old bike, all he could think of was how lucky Jason Stackhouse was.

* * *

**E/S**

It was a Sunday when Alcide asked Jason for his blessing. He remembered because it was the day the Saints won their first Super Bowl.

They were at Lafayette's celebrating with the biggest bar crowd he had ever seen in Bon Temps. It was Sookie's night off and Alcide had taken advantage of her absence and Jason's merry mood.

"You're gonna what!?" Jason asked, wiping the beer that squirted out of his nose with the hem of his gray muscle shirt. "I didn't even know you two were seein' each other," he hissed, lowering his voice when the customers at the booth behind them whisked their heads in their direction. "More importantly, does _she_ know you're datin'?"

Alcide shook his head, "Stop being an ass about it, man," he whined as he leaned forward, "and just gimme your damn blessing."

Jason let out a pocket of air before he took another swig of his beer. "Don't you worry 'bout me, bubba. We're practic'lly brothers. But I'm tellin' you Sook's not into that kinda stuff," he tried to explain. Alcide remained unfazed as he kept drilling him with a hard stare. Finally Jason shrugged. "Knock yourself out. It's your damn funeral."

It had been a funeral indeed.

Alcide was crushed when she laughed off his offer. But he wasn't about to throw in the towel just yet. It had only been a year since their grandmother died then and she still needed time to recuperate. She was scarred and scared.

Alcide was a fighter. And he would fight for her for as long as he damn well could.

So when Jason told him she was coming home for the wedding, Alcide knew it was time. He would put his best Rock Hudson look because he knew Sookie loved the old actor's movies. How fitting, he thought because she was his Doris Day.

Everything had been planned down to the last detail. He even asked the band Jason hired to sing that Michael Buble song when they had their first dance that night at Fiordilatte. That night would have been perfect if it weren't for the egoistic maniac, Eric Northman.

Alcide had a whole speech prepared on how dating him was a sound decision. Sookie was a rational person. He would appeal to her pragmatic side. He would ask her to move back home because she didn't belong in the desert.

He would tell her the story of how he had fallen in love with her. He would explain why it took him a long time to act on it. He would prove to Jason that Sookie had a romantic side. She only needed someone to make her understand that if Sleeping Beauty could find her prince while she was in a deep slumber, then so could she.

Theirs was a love story that was ten years overdue.

Yes. Alcide was prepared for everything.

Everything but Eric Northman.

And tonight, as Sookie Stackhouse raised her stemmed glass to the head table as she finished her toast, Alcide suddenly felt lightheaded. As though someone had whacked his head with a big shovel, blurring his vision. Rubbing his eyes, he shifted his gaze from the stage to the guest table where Eric Northman was seated. The motherfucker who had stolen his game plan - smiling like Rock Hudson to his Doris Day - oblivious to the loud and shameless 'aww' of almost every women inside the tent.

He gazed back at Sookie as she took a sip of her champagne. She still had that 'I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass' look on her face as she zeroed in on the asshat formerly known as Eric Northman.

But there was something else. Or more specifically, there was something missing.

She was no longer terrified. For reasons Alcide couldn't fathom, Eric Northman had taken her fear and turned it into something else. _Hope_.

As Alcide watched Eric Northman whisk his dream girl away from the stage, his shoulders sagged heavily. All along he thought that she couldn't love him because she wasn't ready. Now he knew it wasn't because she wasn't ready. It was because she couldn't love him.

* * *

**E/S **

The cold air from the car's air conditioning was blasting in full stream, making the skin on Sookie's bare arms prickle. Eric rubbed the length of her arm to warm it. Jason was right, she could easily get cold.

"Don't you need both hands to drive?" Sookie asked chidingly, leaning her head on the tinted glass window at the passenger side, eyeing him with a perfect blend of mischief and playfulness.

"Nope," he replied, making a popping sound with his lips. "I'm great in multi-tasking. I can even do this," he said before he fumbled for her seatbelt and unlatched it. She didn't get a chance to spurt a word of protest before he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her toward him, claiming her lips.

The car jerked sharply to the right, making her shriek as she pushed him away with her palms pressed against his chest. "Eyes on the road, Eric!" she admonished, pointing her finger at the windshield.

Eric groaned audibly as he twisted the wheel. The Audi slid to the curb before he pressed his foot on the brake. He reached for his seatbelt and undid his safety strap.

"Why are we stopping?" she asked, nonplussed.

Pivoting to face her, he snatched her elbow and pulled her toward him until the tips of the noses were almost touching. "Do you ever shut up?" he asked, lifting her chin up with his finger.

Her lips curved into a sly smirk. "Make me," she shot back.

And he did. He silenced her with his lips. And his tongue. And his hand that ventured down to her thigh.

Sookie laughed huskily as she tried swatting his wandering hand away. But he was unstoppable as he pushed her back against the door and lifted the soft fabric of her pink dress. With feather-light touches, he grazed her inner thigh sending even more goosebumps across her sensitive skin.

He slanted his head to deepen their kiss, flicking the tip of her tongue with his. His hand continued its trek upward until he found the damp, silky fabric of her lacy panties. A breathless cry escaped her lips when his thumb slid inside her underwear, making small circles around the slickness of the flesh between her thighs.

A low, rumbling growl erupted from his chest. "So fucking wet," he gritted out as he bit her lower lip with suppressed lust.

"And you're so fucking hard," she moaned, cupping the unforgiving hardness against his pants. He hissed when Sookie pressed her palm harder against him.

He was losing his mind and she was winning control.

He reached for the lever beside the passenger door and pulled it to recline her seat. He muffled her surprised gasp when he crushed his mouth over hers, pushing her to lie on her back. Just as he intended she lost her grip on his crotch. And he was back in command.

His thumb pushed inside her eliciting another sharp cry from the Southerner. _'That-a-girl.'_

But all traces of hubris vanished in a flash when he felt her clench around his digit. _'Fuck!'_

His tongue pierced her mouth as he took his thumb out and replaced it with two fingers. He slightly drew his face back so he could stare at her. Every push of his fingers was making her sob. "What the fuck have you done to me?" he murmured as his free hand caressed the length of her neck. "Do you know how dangerous it is for you when I'm this crazy?"

From the soft gleam of the lamp posts outside he could see her cheeks blaze into a furious red as she stifled another sob. His shy Southern Belle was too damn demure. It would be his undoing.

Lights from the Land Rover behind him blinked twice. It was Roman's way of telling him to stop fucking around. They were starting to draw attention. Fortunately, Sookie didn't notice it. He captured her lips once more as the pad of his thumb found the sensitive spot between her folds, teasing it with gentle pressure.

That was all it took to push her over the edge. Her hips trembled and grew tensed under him. The clamping around his fingers was too much.

'_Bill Compton. Bill Compton. Bill Compton,'_ he chanted mentally, willing his erection away. Luckily, it worked. Like a fucking charm.

Releasing her mouth from his, he started nipping down her neck. He had to wind down. As he felt her pulse returning to normal, he gently pulled out of her. Sookie bit her lip, sucking in a deep breath.

"That was…" she gasped.

"Foreplay," he interrupted, kissing her cheek. "Seatbelt, please, Miss Stackhouse," he ordered in a serious tone. "I can't have you distracting me anymore. We have a very tight schedule."

'_I'm about to cum in my fucking pants!'_ he added internally as he shifted from his seat, trying to get a comfortable angle for his tight pants.

His subtle squirming must not have been as discreet as he wanted when he saw her bite back a giggle.

'_Damn it!' _

She straightened her back and smoothed the hem of her dress. With a flick of the wheel, they were back on the road. Eric looked to his right and smiled when he found her staring at him lecherously.

He trained his eyes in front of him, but he could still feel her eyes boring holes through his skull. Or his shirt. Or his pants. He wasn't really sure.

Finally he couldn't take it anymore and whisked his head to her. "What?" he snapped, keeping his expression nonchalant to hide his own amusement.

She shrugged, displaying the same mask of ennui. She was running the tip of her index finger to the pad of her lower lip. Fuck, he wished she would stop doing that. It was making it hard for him to concentrate.

He swallowed the lump forming at the back his throat as he forced his lips to leer deviously. Well, as deviously as he nervously could.

"So this is how you plan to retaliate? By eye fucking me?" he asked, lacing his tone with as much arrogance as he could muster.

She pressed her lips together before her hand began crawling inside his blazer. He felt his muscles grow taut under her fingers. Then she started running her palm across his abdomen, getting dangerously close to his…

"Sookie!" He gripped her wrist, stilling her movement. "I'm going to crash this car if you don't stop."

But, like him, she was relentless. Leaning in to him she started leaving a trail of moist kisses from the side of his jaw up to his ear. "Shh… don't mind me," she purred, licking the soft flesh behind his ear.

Eric literally had to force his eyes to stay open as she continued planting wet, lush kisses on the back of his ear to the underside of his jaw. Grinding his teeth, he gripped the wheel tightly as though it was the anchor holding his sanity. He could feel his heart beating so hard. It was a miracle she couldn't hear it.

'_Don't mind me!?'_ he screamed mentally, echoing her statement. It was like asking him to stop breathing.

* * *

**E/S**

The hard rough wood against her back creaked against the pressure as Eric slammed her against the front door as soon as he closed it with his foot behind them.

She blew the wisps of blonde hair that fell on her face while her hands were busy ridding him of his clothing. Eric grabbed a fistful of her hair before he sealed his lips over hers. There was no gentleness with the way he was kissing her. It was brutal and savage that he was sure her lips would be bruised tomorrow.

He would apologize for that later. Tonight would be the end of his fasting.

He reached for the concealed zipper at the back of her dress but his fingers were being uncooperative as they kept losing their grip on the miniscule pull tab. _'Damn fuck!'_

He was running out of patience. This was not the time to act like a fumbling idiot. Gripping the edge of the back of her gown with both hands he ripped the bothersome fabric apart without any qualms. Her undergarments met the same fate.

She was completely naked. Pliant and malleable.

Her breasts heaved as she breathed raggedly. "Pants off, _now_," she ordered in a sultry voice that went straight to his crotch. He doubted even the image of Bill Compton giving Russell a lapdance could make him flaccid at that point.

She had managed to peel his jacket and dress shirt off. But the hook-and-eye closure of his pants was proving to be quite recalcitrant.

Resisting the urge to smirk, he obliged quickly all the while reveling in the intense way her breath quickens with his every movement.

With an animalistic growl he lunged at her and cupped her throat. He licked the bead of sweat that rolled down her cheek before he devoured her mouth with the kind of desperation and possessiveness that were consuming him from the inside.

She strangled a moan as her fingers weaved through his short hair.

He let go of her neck and gripped her waist, hoisting her up. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his middle. A hiss escaped his lips when the warm, slick flesh between her thighs grazed his manhood. He made another frustrated noise when he felt Sookie smile devilishly against his lips.

'_Fucking tease.' _

Carrying her, he backed away toward the sofa without breaking their kiss. The thought of separating his lips from hers was unthinkable. She tasted of cherries and wine. And he thought if every wine tasted this luscious in her mouth he would willingly succumb to alcoholism.

What he told Jason was true, she was his addiction.

The back of his knees hit the cushion and he fell back on the couch with a thud with her on top of him. She pulled her face back and Eric growled in response to the loss of contact.

"Eric…" she breathed out, tasting the salt off his neck. "I want you... inside me now."

He fisted a clump of blonde hair into his hand and tugged her head, making her crane her neck upward. The peaks of her bosoms bounced in front of him and he wasted no time lapping at each nipple, eliciting staccato gasps from the Southerner.

His hips thrust upward, his erection gliding across her soft, wet flesh.

"Eric…" she gasped one more time.

A lazy smirk broke across his face as he stroked her cheeks before he brought her in for another searing kiss. She's too goddamn sweet, he thought. With all his unstable control he flipped her and laid her down on the couch before he dashed to the bottom of the staircase to get the condom from his discarded trousers. He was a boy's scout when it came to her. Always goddamn prepared.

He ripped the foil packet with his teeth and deftly rolled the lubricated rubber over his manhood. He approached her with the suaveness and grace of a feline, his stormy blue eyes raking over her form. He loved the way her golden hair flowed like white wine down her shoulders to her breasts, covering them like a prim goddess. And he had no doubt she was eager for him as she met his gaze with the same intensity and primordial need he had.

"Open your legs," he commanded in a gravelly voice.

There was a flicker of objection in her eyes from his harsh tone.

Then she smiled - a wicked, delicious smile that made him harder - if that was even possible. Licking her lips wet, she bent her knees and pushed them slightly apart.

It wasn't enough. But he'd take it. He let out a loud hiss before he dropped on his knees and dove at the flesh between her thighs. He saw her cover her lips to muffle a scream when his mouth ravaged her with as much finesse as he could summon amid his overwhelming desire to have her.

He was greedy but patient and his tongue was methodical. He knew how to work her up without making her come. He nudged her thighs with his shoulder to spread her a little wider.

Her suppressed moans had never sounded so good to his ears. Her hips quaked as he felt a violent shiver run from chest to her loins. She came. Hard.

He pushed two fingers inside her and she jerked back from the penetration. "Nonono, Eric. I want _you_. Please, I can't… not anymore," she begged, pressing her thighs together.

But he would have none of it. Slinging her leg over his shoulder, she was under his spell again. It was only fair considering he was always under hers.

He was insistent. Every stroke was demanding a response, and soon she was shaking beneath him again, knuckles white from clutching the cushion of the couch.

She was a boneless mess, sobbing and moaning, when he finally heeded her pleas.

"Oh god, Eric," she gasped when he pushed inside her slowly.

He kicked the armrest to drive himself deeper making her bite her lip hard to silence her sobs. He ground his teeth as he hovered over her, his face inches from hers. "You're driving me insane, Sookie," he snarled.

Her fingers found the hollow line on his nape, "Go crazy, honey," she whispered, breathing heavily against his cheek.

Her words were his downfall. Grabbing onto the backrest for balance, he pulled himself out of her. Then just as she was about to yelp because of the lack of connection, his lips latched onto hers before he buried himself to the hilt inside her.

He wanted tonight to be exceptional. It would be slow and sweet. Not uncouth and hurried. But he should have known by now, with Sookie, his unpredictable, volatile, maddening lover, nothing goes according to plan. She was like a firefly, fleeting and burning.

Their lips met. It was wet and sloppy, lacking the refinement he had mastered through years of training. And it was exactly how he wanted it to be. Because, honestly, nothing could really prepare him for her.

The minute their eyes locked he saw an aching that mirrored his own. She loved him. No, she _loves_ him. Not as much as he loves her. That he was certain of. But she was mighty close.

With another ferocious thrust, their climax hit them simultaneously. The muscles around his thighs clenched as he came.

Panting like he had just ran a marathon he fell limp on top of her. Their bodies adhered together from the stifling heat and the muggy air. And for a few minutes none of them spoke. All he could hear was the erratic thumping of her heart that matched his own.

'_Marry me, Sookie,'_ he almost said out loud. But stopped himself before he did. It wasn't the time nor the place. He didn't want to ask her to give him forever in the midst of a post-coital high. He wanted it to be perfect.

He wanted it to be epic.

* * *

**E/S**

Her small dainty toes clashed with his as she lay sprawled across his bare chest. He felt her giggle when his big toe scraped the arch of her foot. Tickle spot. Jackpot.

She hugged the side of his waist, "Enough! Enough!" she laughed.

"You started it," he mumbled, burying his nose in her hair while drawing small figure eights over her naked back.

She giggled gustily as she pressed her cheek against his chest.

"I heard about your request to reopen granddaddy's case," she murmured, her warm breath sending a welcome shiver across his skin. "Thank you… for caring so much."

Eric rolled his eyes. How many times did he have to tell her to stop saying thank you like they were mere acquaintances?

She lifted her head and turned to face him. Squinting her eyes, she studied him closely. "Do you think they'd catch his killer?"

He brushed his fingers across her shoulder with the softest of touches. Fixing his gaze on her, he nodded his assent. "I think so, yes."

Her lips pursed into a taut line before she pushed herself up to nuzzle the alcove of his neck. "I hope he's dead. Whoever killed him."

Eric let her words hang in the air. She had barely talked about her grandfather but the hatred in her tone was unmistakable, which led his mind to wander to their primary goal: Russell.

"You never gave me an answer though, what would you do to your dad's killer when we find him," he asked in a flat tone. He knew it was a sensitive topic, but if he were to ask her to marry him, they would have to deal with it sooner rather than later.

He felt her grow rigid. And he immediately regretted asking.

She raised her head and hauled herself up to lie on top of him. She pressed her palms against his torso so she could meet his eyes. There was no softness in them. No trace of amusement or haughtiness. The coldness in her gaze almost made him shudder.

"I already found him." There was a sort of chilling calm in her tone. "I know its Russell. And I'll make him pay. I'll destroy everything he loved so dearly, the way he destroyed mine."

* * *

**E/S**

"Do you think Roman heard us?" Sookie asked as she drew the curtains back to peer outside from her second-floor bedroom. She was wearing a blue tank top over white cotton pajama bottoms. Her wet hair was swept off her face, clinging to her shoulder after another heated bout with the Viking in the bathtub.

Eric, wearing black track pants and nothing else, sauntered behind her, peeking over her shoulder. He could see his chief of security leaning against the hood of the white SUV, a lit cigarette between his fingers. Roman parked diagonally in the driveway beside the silver coupe a couple of meters from the porch.

"You don't seem to mind earlier," he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist.

She elbowed him at the stomach, making him jump back and chuckle. He pulled her flush against him, pressing his palms against her lean belly. "Don't worry," he hushed, resting his chin on top of her damp hair. "He's trained to hear only what he's supposed to hear. He knows how much I value my privacy."

"You should give him a break," she offered, releasing the curtain, letting it fall and cover the double hung window. "I can be your bodyguard. I'm a pretty good shot, y'know."

He smiled. Of course, she was. Like a bonafide Southern Belle.

She twisted to face him, eyebrows cocked. "You don't believe me?" she asked in mock indignation.

He pressed his lips together, stifling a grin. "Oh, I know you are, sweetheart. I seem to recall how you made a certain prince cry like a bitch not too long ago," he drawled, tucking a wet clump of hair behind her ear.

Sookie grinned. "That wasn't even on my best day," she quipped, jutting her chin up.

"Oooh, cocky," he cooed, "I love it."

Her hands slid around his nape, pulling him down for a slow, languorous liplock. Maybe she was growing addicted to his lips, too. Their kiss tapered off but their eyes remained on each other. "Seriously, Eric, I wish it can be just us," her voice catching, like she was trying not to choke. "You and me. No guards. None of your adoring public. No nothing. Just you," she pointed two fingers at his chest, "and me."

His eyes glimmered against the muted glow of the night lamp at her bedside table. "I'm listening," he prodded, lowering his head to rest his temple against hers.

She broke into a smile as her fingers drew imaginary tails through his short blond hair at the back of his neck. "We'll pack up our bags and we'll get the hell outta here. We'll go somewhere quiet, where no one can recognize you -"

"We'll have to go out of the country for that," he cut her off. "Somewhere without twitter. I heard I'm trending right now."

Sookie lifted her brow, pouting her lips into a scoff. "Uhuh... are you quite done?"

"I'm sorry," he said, chuckling. He arranged his features to seem apologetic but the smirk that was fighting to break out was giving him away. "Keep talking."

She pressed her cheek to his chest. "What do you say?" she asked, imploring. "You can paint and I can cook. And we'll make love every night."

Although he couldn't see her face, he could hear the contentment in her voice.

He pushed her back, clicking his tongue. "We," he started grazing the tip of her nose with his, "will make love three to four times every day," he corrected haughtily.

She made a sound between a snort and a giggle before she raised her brow. "Just three to four times!? Man, you're getting old."

He growled - a raspy one that seemed to bubble from his chest up to his throat. "You keep sassing me like that and I'll tie you the bed and fuck you senseless."

His hands slipped down from her lower back to cup the cheeks of her buttocks before he lifted her off the floor.

They reached the single mattress bed and gruffly laid her on her back. His hands snuck under her top, trailing upward to fondle her breasts.

She laughed as she tugged at his arms. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Truce! Please!" she pleaded.

He finally yielded as he crawled up the bed beside her, pulling her on top of him. The silence that followed was blissful.

'_It's time,'_ said a voice in his head. _'It can't get any better than this.'_

"Sookie?" he whispered, making sure she hadn't fallen asleep yet.

"Hmm?" she hummed tilting her head to look at him.

"Can you stay awake for a little bit longer?" he husked.

"I'm not sleepin'," she croaked, propping her chin up against his chest. "Why?"

He smiled. "Nothing," he said, shrugging, "I have to go down and get something from the car. I want you to still be up when I come back."

She shot him a look of confusion at his strange request. Knowing Sookie, it would not be long before she started piecing it together and if he wanted it to be epic he would have to act fast.

* * *

**E/S **

He placed the silver metal attaché case on top of the round kitchen table lightly, careful not to make a sound. He ran the pad of his thumb across the side of the metal casing, searching for the hidden button that would give him access to the electronic keypad.

The microscopic button - about six millimeters in size, concealed a few inches beside one of the draw bolt latches – gave a soft whizzing sound as a numeric keypad slid out. His index finger began skating over the pad, pressing numbers 15-14-10-1-8, the numerical equivalent of his middle name, Johan, in random order. The draw bolt locks unlatched automatically as soon as he pressed the last digit. The casing was designed to double lock from the inside in case anyone tried to key in a wrong combination.

He grinned broadly, his shoulders lifting in anticipation.

There were three small black square velvet boxes inside the briefcase that were pressed against soft black foam customarily used in a gun's compartment. He picked up the one in the middle, knowing all too well that it was the one he was looking for.

Bingo.

Inside was a simple marquise-cut diamond ring in platinum setting, tucked firmly against soft velvet padding. It was beautiful in its simplicity. Like his Sookie.

However, in the eyes of a true jewel expert, it was more than a ring.

It was the Liberator Diamond. Named after Simon Bolivar - the one who liberated Venezuela from the Spanish colony. The flawless rock on his mother's engagement ring was among the four cuts made to one of the purest, most famous diamonds in the world.

Even Harry Winston himself thought it would be a damn shame to have only one of it. He bought the gem that was as big as an egg and had it divided into three emerald and one marquise bands. It cost Godric quite a fortune when he made the bid for it in an auction in New York in 1973. But it was worth it, he said.

That was Godric, a true collector, the one who taught Eric that no one could put a price on something so rare.

Eric heaved a sigh. The irony of giving Sookie the Liberator Diamond while asking her to commit herself fully to him was hard to miss.

'_She'll say yes,'_ he told himself. _'I know she will.'_

God, he hoped she would.

Just as he was about to close the case, his curiosity struck. He shoved the velvet box in his pocket, tapping it gently as though telling the inanimate object to wait just a minute longer. He reached out and grabbed the other customized box on the right side. But as he peeked inside it, he instantly wished he hadn't.

* * *

**E/S**

Lifting the black flap underneath the dark gray foam, Eric saw a thin manila envelope pressed firmly at the bottom-left corner. Using his pointer- and middle-finger he fished it out and quickly undid the figure-eight loop.

His eyes were getting glassy and his trembling hand wasn't helping either. There were three sheets of paper inside. He read the header on the first page and discarded it right away. He couldn't care less about that list. The second sheet was as useless as the first.

And then there it was… the list that was like a fist that had been rammed to his throat. Crushing him from the inside.

It was similar to a genealogical graph, filled with names of different people. Some he knew, some he wished he didn't.

Blinking hard, he shook his head. _'It can't be.'_

His eyes darted back to the yawning customized box and he knew right then that denial was futile. With unsteady fingers he seized the precious metal coin. How could something so little, so dull and lifeless could cause this much harm? He flipped it and the name that stared back at him was as ugly as the sneering devil himself: _Scarface._

He glanced back at the sheet of paper on his other hand. And right down in the last box at the bottom of the page it read: Corbett Stackhouse.

In the end he got his wish. He wanted the night to be epic. What could be more epic than a tragedy?

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric.**

**I love you all, please don't kill me. *runs off and hide***


	40. Chapter 40

'_I'm not perfect, son,'_ Godric had told him on his deathbed. His cancer had already metastasized, stripping him not only of his physical strength but also all traces of hubris. _'I've done godawful things. And my only regret is that I won't live long enough to pay for all of them.'_

Eric skimmed through the sheet of paper with the name Alphonse Gabriel Capone scribbled on top in a classic typewriter font. It was a catalogue of all the names of the infamous chip's previous owners. It wasn't as convoluted as the Bugsy and Lucky's lists.

There were only eight names in it, in fact. The name of the first box was a no-brainer. It was Johnny 'The Fox' Torrio, the leader of the notorious Chicago Outfit. He was Al Capone's mentor. Below Torrio's name was the year 1939 to 1957. Apparently, Al Capone gave his mentor the chip after he had been transferred to Pennsylvania from Alcatraz for tax evasion and violation of the Prohibition act. Torrio never let go of the chip until the day he died of cardiac arrest while waiting for a haircut in his barber's chair.

The chip had stayed in New York before it moved to Chicago when it was passed on to one of Capone's 'brothers' in the Five Points Gang. It had stayed in Chicago for three years.

It was when it was handed to Meyer Lansky that the Scarface returned to the City of Sin. Lansky, best known as 'The Accountant', was the co-owner of the Flamingo in Las Vegas, the most luxurious hotel-casino during the 50s. After the death of Lansky's friend Bugsy Siegel in 1947, the Bugsy chip was given to him. Thirteen years later, the Scarface landed on Lansky's lap when Sonny Capone, Al's only son, sold it to him for a whopping $22-million dollars. Lucky Luciano helped him pay off Sonny, stressing that the chip must stay within _Cosa Nostra_.

After Meyer Lansky died in 1983 neck-deep in debt, his only daughter, Sandra, held an underground auction in Reno for all of Lansky's prized possessions. She had sold the Scarface and the Bugsy to a young wealthy businessman from Mississippi for an undisclosed amount. That businessman held the chips like badges of honor as he went on to own three major casinos in Las Vegas - one of them was the MGM Grand.

Yes. It was Russell Edgington. And his reputation grew when word spread that he was only one chip shy of completing the trinity. He had two assassination attempts since then. One took his first wife's life, while the other gave him a scar on his left shoulder from where the sniper's bullet hit him and went through and through.

The attempts on his life only fortified his status as an invincible force in the desert.

It was the year 2000 that saw the most exclusive poker event in Las Vegas. The Bellagio held a huge Y2K celebration. It was the party that saw the glitterati scuttle like proletarians for an invite to the prestigious gathering.

But what most people didn't know was that the party with the highest stakes was being held at the 36th floor. Even those who had pockets deep enough to buy the Bellagio were not aware of the event.

It was strictly for the inner core of Las Vegas. The crème de la crème. There was no buy-in because the players did not gamble with money. They place their bets for a piece of history. From Capone's armored limousine which was sequestered after his incarceration and utilized by Franklin Roosevelt after Pearl Harbor to George Washington's antique deck of cards he used to play whist.

Godric Northman was among the chosen few. And Godric Northman was the one who pried the Bugsy from Russell Edgington's hand with the help of four Aces and a Queen.

Godric had told Eric the story of how he won the Bugsy with a quad – four of a kind. What his father didn't tell him was whom he took it from. It wasn't because Godric didn't trust Eric. It was because all the players in the elite congregation were bound by the code of silence: _Omerta_.

Eric leafed through the other two pages and found the one with the name Salvatore Lucania - the original owner of the Lucky chip. According to the list, the last person known to have possession of the chip was a Chinese businessman named Louis Kar-wai. Eric grabbed the brown envelope and flipped it. As expected it was blank. No name or address that could point him to the private investigator who compiled the list for his father.

But Eric knew one more person who could give him answers. Grabbing the Scarface chip off the table, he closed the attaché case and dashed outside the front door. Roman, who was sitting casually at the porch swing, stood up abruptly and took the case from the Viking.

"I need your phone," Eric demanded, extending one hand to Roman after he handed him the case. "This is the one with the TrustChip, yes?" the Viking asked when the Grecian guard pressed the sleek black iPhone in his palm.

All his guards, along with Sam and Pam, were assigned microSD cards to put in their mobile phones for added security. It was a top of the line technology that would eliminate the threat of hacking and tapping into their lines. He and Sookie also had TrustChips in their cellphones. However, he couldn't use his encrypted mobile phone right now.

Because he couldn't go upstairs and face her yet.

The man on the other line picked up at the second ring. "Roman?"

"It's me," Eric answered. He didn't need to say anything else. He knew the man on the other line would be able to tell who he was.

"Boss!" Sam Merlotte blurted. Even from two thousand miles Eric could still make the Hawk jump. "What's up? Everything okay with Sookie?"

Of course it would be about her. It was _always_ about her.

"I need update on Compton," Eric demanded.

There was a brief pause at the other line. In the absence of Pam, everything would have to go through Sam, especially all that concerned Russell Edgington and by extension Bill Compton.

"Bill's in Macau, boss. He took a commercial flight last night and booked a room at the Venetian."

Eric was not surprised that Compton would scurry to Russell's side after Victor's disappearance. Compton knew his days were numbered. He was only prolonging the inevitable.

"Send word to his guards. Tell them to keep that motherfucker close at all times. I want him ready for pick up as soon as I get there," Eric hissed, pacing back and forth at the front lawn with his bare feet.

"You're going straight to Macau from Louisiana?" Sam asked, perplexed. "Sookie going with you?"

Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. The original plan was to take Sookie with him to Macau when he met with Lawrence Ho and his father to talk about the expansion of the North in Taipa. It would have been her first out-of-the-country trip. He could still remember how hard she had tried to hide her excitement when he asked her to come with him. She would be crushed. If only she knew it was tearing him apart twice as bad.

"No. It's just me." He pressed the end call button without waiting for Sam to respond.

Roman was at his side, standing rigidly, silently waiting for Eric's command.

The Viking raised his head and stared at the jet black sky. It was past two in the morning and the silence that draped the surrounding was taunting him.

"Call Tony later. It's Saturday, so he'll be at his Summerville residence. He doesn't bring his cell to bed so you have to call the landline. It might be tapped. Ask for Linda, he'll know what to do," Eric said evenly.

Linda was their code for Felipe. Despite the heavily encrypted mobile phones Eric had at his disposal, it was Tony's idea that only one of them should contact Felipe to avoid leaving too much crumbs. Felipe should be in Manila right now. Philippines was only one and a half hours away from Hong Kong. From Hong Kong he would take a ferry to Macau where he would meet with Russell. It was the first phase of Operation Raven - creating a diversion. What could be more distracting than seeing a ghost?

Eric would have to ask Felipe to stand by. He had to get to Compton first before Felipe started rattling the cage. Compton was Godric's henchman during the time he acquired the Scarface from Corbett. If anyone could tell Eric how his father got his hands on the Scarface, it would be the traitorous weasel, Compton.

He unclenched his fingers and stared at the platinum chip in his palm. His fingers balled into a fist again before he started dragging his feet back into the house. It was like holding a detonator in his hand. Every step was deliberate. Heavy.

One of the things he loved about his job was watching an implosion. He would bask in the knowledge that while some could only stand back and watch as a building collapse, _he_ had the power to decide when it would happen. When to push that little red button that would send a mountain of cinderblocks crashing down to make way for a new skyscraper.

It sure felt like that now. But instead of elation he only felt a growing void inside him. Instead of a red button it was a shiny platinum chip. And instead of watching the implosion from a safe distance, he would be inside the building as it crumbled into dust.

* * *

**E/S**

'_If you're going to gamble with a losing hand, Eric, start betting with the truth then end it with a lie. Keep your cards close to your chest. Always remember the cards between your fingers are your own worst enemy,'_ Godric's voice echoed in his head as he peered from the threshold of the bedroom.

Eric shoved his hand inside his pocket and seized the unforgiving chip. He pressed it into his palm until he could no longer feel the coldness of the round metallic coin against his skin. He wished he was strong enough to crush it. Only he wasn't.

She hadn't noticed him yet. He was thankful for that. Thankful for the few seconds that he could just stare at her. She was sitting in an Indian position with her back hunched, holding a deck of cards. Her hair was tied into a loose braid and swept over her shoulder.

She was playing solitaire.

"Klondike?" he asked in a hushed tone, referring to the type of solitaire she was playing. It was a game of patience.

Her head snapped up and her cheeks lifted at the sight of him. The happiness in her smile was like a snake coiled around his chest, choking him. The mattress sank beneath his weight, making the neatly piled black and red cards slide toward him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, gathering the cards that slipped under his folded leg. If only she knew how much he meant it.

Her smile widened before she blew away a wisp of hair out of her face. "Don't be," she said with a flick of a hand as she turned sideways to face him. "I was losing anyway. Solitaire's probably the only card game I suck no matter how many times I play."

He forced himself to return her grin as he handed her the cards he collected.

"So did you get it?" she asked, shuffling the cards on top of her thigh.

"Get what?"

"The thing you're gettin' from the car," she replied, arranging the cards into seven piles to start a new game.

His eyes followed her hands' movements - careful not to give anything away. Growing up with Godric and living in Las Vegas had taught him a few tricks. In gambling one should live by two rules: manipulation and deceit. Manipulation required a person to build a fortress around himself to hinder his opponent to read his moves. Deceit was more complicated. One must develop a number of tells and tics then use them in an unreadable pattern to throw other players off.

With Sookie, he couldn't decide which way to go. If she desired it, she would see through him.

He placed his hand on top of his upper thigh. He cursed the platinum chip that seemed to burn a hole into his skin. "Pam forgot to bring it," he lied. He wished Pam had really forgotten.

"Oh." She paused from sifting through the remaining deck of cards and raised her head to look at him. "Is it important?"

Eric shook his head, still keeping his eyes fixed on the cards on the mattress.

Lifting her free hand, she stroked the five o'clock shadow on his chiseled chin. "You're awf'lly quiet," she observed, putting the deck of cards down to cup his cheeks. "I saw you talkin' on the phone outside. Is everythin' okay?"

'_If you must lie. Take a page from the masters. Make it a big one. Make it impossible to believe. Then believe it. Never flinch. Never blink. And never ever tremble.'_

He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand like a purring cat. "It is now," he husked, cupping her hand keeping it in place. He wondered how long they could remain like that. He wondered if she would still hold him after she found out…

'_No!'_

His eyes snapped open and blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.

He couldn't go there. Wouldn't go there. Not yet.

'_Not ever.'_

Sookie watched him closely as her thumb kept stroking his cheek.

"Finish your game," he urged, gesturing toward the stack of cards behind her. His walls were cracking. He could not let that happen.

Her eyes narrowed and her brows furrowed. She let out an audible sigh to show her disappointment toward his blatant dismissal. She must have known that with Eric she needed to be patient because after a few pregnant seconds she grabbed the yellowed deck and began whipping three cards at a time.

"Look," she blurted after a while, "I found you." She picked a card from the pile and flashed it to him. It was a King of Hearts.

He replied with a dark chuckle, taking the card from her. "This is me?"

She bobbed her head. "You see at first I thought you didn't have a heart. And I was so glad to be proven wrong."

He cracked a small smile as his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her close, her back against his chest. Resting his head on her shoulder he raised the card in front of her. "Did you notice that the King of Hearts is the only face card with four hands while the others only had two?"

She nodded. "The other two were holding a sword, stabbing his head. That's why they call him _suicide king_, right?"

"That's one way to look at it," he replied, running the pad of his thumb at the sword at the bottom of the card. "But my dad told me it was a hidden message. A code. When the first deck of cards was made, the man who designed it -"

"Etienne de Vignolles," she interjected proudly, the French name rolling in her tongue like honey.

He smirked. She really was clever.

"Yes. Vignolles," he said, running the tip of his nose across her clavicle. "He was a knight. He used the playing cards as missives to his fellow knights. Look closely at the sleeves of the King."

Sookie leaned forward, squinting her eyes. "They're not the same," she deduced.

"No, they're not. They said that the King wasn't stabbing himself. He was murdered by someone he did not see coming."

"Who?" she asked, twisting her head to face him, her brows were drawn together. Like a curious student eager for an answer.

Eric inched forward, prying two other cards from the stack of upturned cards. "Among the face cards, only three had their sleeves on display. The King of Hearts, the Queen of Spades and the Jack of Clubs."

Sookie examined both cards for a minute then she inhaled sharply. "It's the Queen of Spades!"

"Well done, Grasshopper."

Sookie elbowed him at the chest, giggling in spite of herself. He let out a short chortle. "So the King of Hearts was stabbed by the Queen of Spades. What does that mean?"

"Actually, it's not a Queen. It was a knight. You see, when the playing cards were first made, women were cast aside as someone who did not deserve any position of power."

She gasped. "Chauvinistic pigs!"

He smiled while bobbing his head. "Feminism was another thing the kings did not see coming," he retorted, placing a soft kiss behind her ear.

She huffed in mock derision but didn't offer a response.

"So initially the face cards were composed of the kings, knights and knaves," he resumed his explanation. "As time passed by they changed the knights into queens. For it to make more sense, I guess. And to avoid anymore political scuffle."

"Knaves?"

"Jacks."

"Oh." She pried the King of Hearts between his fingers. "Well, that's tragic."

"It was," he hushed. His jaw tightened and he was glad she couldn't see how his expression turned grim.

She pivoted toward him and threw her arms around his neck, her eyes gleaming with mirth. "Don't worry, my liege, I won't let any bitch stab you in the back," she chirped and winked before she kissed the deep dimple on his chin.

Every word was like a knife to his chest. _'Kill me softly, will you?'_

He pinched her chin and tilted her face toward him. "Do you know what you are, Sookie?"

"What?"

"An Ace of Spades."

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like Spades. Dad said spades were shovels. The Death Card."

"Spades _were_ known to signify shovels, yes. But before, the spade was the symbol of the knights. The tips of their lance. Did you know that the Ace of Spades was the first card in every deck? It's the only card with the biggest symbol in the middle. That's why it's called the Trump Card. _You're_ my Trump Card, Sookie. Everything starts and ends with you," he said solemnly.

She opened her mouth but her words were diminished into a strangled whimper when he seized the back of her head, pulled her and sealed his lips over hers.

They made love for the third time that night. He silenced her prudish cries with his desperate lips. Whispering I love you's with every thrust. He _had_ to make her understand. He _had_ to make her believe. He _had_ to make her love him.

Love him enough never to leave him.

* * *

**E/S**

Orange streaks from the sunlight diffused into the room hitting the pillow beside her. Sookie instinctively flung her arm to Eric's side of the bed without opening her eyes, reaching for the warm body that had lulled her to sleep.

Empty.

Her eyes flew open and blinked rapidly, zooming into focus. He was gone. She hoisted herself up, clutching the sheer duvet to cover her naked chest.

"Eric?" she called out. She swung her feet off the bed but caught a glimpse of something tucked under the bedside lamp.

Two playing cards: the Ace of Spades on top of the King of Hearts. Under the cards was a folded piece of white paper. She opened it and read the handwriting she recognized immediately.

_Sookie, _

_Don't be mad. I'm leaving for Macau today. Another jet will be waiting for you and your brother at Louis Armstrong airport. It will take you back to Vegas. Hold the fort while I'm gone. I won't be long, I promise. _

_You were right. There was something wrong. Something urgent that needed my attention. _

_But I will fix it. And when I come back we will take that trip. No guards, I swear. And you'll be the only girl that will be worshipping me. Just you and me. How's Uganda sound? (You smiled, didn't you?)_

_I love you. _

_Eric_

Sookie didn't smile. Not even a bit.

* * *

**E/S**

"You have to tell her," Pam's firm voice rang in his ears like an annoying gong.

"I can't," he said through gritted teeth, pressing his head against the cream leather cushion of the head rest. "Not until I know what really happened."

Pam eyed him warily, propping her elbow against one of the polished armrest of the seat across him in the private jet. "You think Bill knows?"

"I _know_ he knows," he shoved verbally.

"I don't think he does," Pam said in a leveled tone. She didn't want to agitate him anymore than he already was. "Think about it, Eric. If Bill knew about the chip don't you think he would have told Sookie by now?"

Eric had pondered about that last night as his mind cart-wheeled and went over every possible solution to his dilemma.

"You're underestimating Compton, Pam. There's a reason why Russell trusted him. He's an efficient schemer. He's waiting for the players to get in line before he makes the kill shot."

Pam turned contemplative, flicking her fingers one by one, like she was ticking off a mental list. After a while she spoke again, concern was much more evident in her voice. "How do you plan to squeeze that kind of information from that slimebag?"

He shot her a withering glare. He didn't need to verbalize what both of them already knew. Eric was desperate. And if there was anything more terrifying than an angry Eric, it was a desperate one.

Pam swallowed a big lump in her throat as she shifted in her seat. She could feel the gentle whirring of the aircraft springing into life. She had to alight from the jet soon. She had wanted to accompany Eric to Macau but he ordered her to escort the Stackhouses back to Vegas.

"What if…" she started, clearing her throat, not really sure how to phrase her query. "What if – it really was Godric who ordered the hit?"

Eric squeezed his eyes shut, the muscles across his jawline flexing against the skin. "We'll leave," he answered in a low voice.

Pam didn't have to ask if she was included in the 'we'. She already knew she wasn't.

"I'll take her away. She doesn't have to know."

Her eyes widened as she pulled herself to the edge of her seat. "What!? No!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "You can't do that. What about your empire? The North? All the people who depend on you? You're not some hippie who can just pack up and leave everything behind. You're Eric Northman!"

"What if I don't want to be Eric Northman anymore!" he shot back, balling his fists and pounding them against his knees. "Because frankly it's fucking hard being a Northman right now."

"Eric…" she whispered, her voice growing weak. "There's got to be another way."

"If you can come up with anything that allows me to tell her the truth without her leaving me, please be my guest," he spat out.

Pam eyed him beseechingly, her trembling hands stretching out to him. "Cut her loose, Eric. Trust her that she loves you enough to understand."

He shook his head vigorously, leaning back to his seat, pressing his lips tightly together. "What if she doesn't? What if she can't love the son of the man who had her father killed for a fucking coin? What then?"

Pam leaped out of her chair, crouching in front of him, grasping both his knees. "If you leave then Russell will win. He'll have Vegas -"

"He can have Vegas. Hell, he can even take Macau," he cut her off. "But he Can't. Take. Her."

With a heavy sigh, Pam pulled herself up and grabbed her purse from the seat behind her. She slung the gold chain of her Chanel bag over her shoulder and eased her way into the aisle. Roman and two more sentries were seated near the cockpit, trying hard not to listen in on their conversation as they flipped through in-flight sports magazines. A dark-haired female flight attendant was getting out of the rear compartment at the other end holding a tray of hot towels rolled like cigars and a silver tong.

"I hope for all our sakes that it wasn't Godric. And if it was him, I hope to all that is holy that she doesn't find out. Because if she does," her chest heaved as she choked back a sob, "she _will_ destroy you. And the worst part is… you will let her." With her Parthian shot she bounded out of the plane.

Eric heard the metal door sliding upward. He turned toward the small window beside him. He wondered what time it was and took his phone out of his pocket to check the clock. He forgot he had it turned off. Not for the flight, though. Turning off mobile phones during flights was bullshit. He shut it off to restrain himself from calling her. He didn't trust himself not to turn around and go back to Bon Temps if she called and asked him to.

He saw the Audi make its way out of the tarmac. Pam better hurry, he thought. Sookie must be up by now, looking for him. She was probably thinking of synonyms for arrogant pricks as she pictured him jetting off without her. He could think of a few himself. A fucktarded coward was off the top of his head.

The small plane started gliding at the runway, picking up speed.

He leaned his head back against the upholstered leather bolster before he closed his eyes and touched his lower lip with the pad of his thumb. It was still warm. He darted his tongue out and licked his lips. He could still make out the faint taste of peppermint and cherries.

Of Sookie.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric or TB. **

**Fasten your seatbelt. It'll be a bumpy ride. Just hang in there, will you? **


	41. Chapter 41

_4:17AM_

She could feel goosebumps crawling up her skin. The small hair at the back of her neck bristled when the ice-cold wind from the air conditioner hit her direction. She wished they would turn up the thermostat but she knew they wouldn't grant her any kind of comfort. At least the fan was vacillating, she thought appreciatively.

Sookie kept her eyes locked on her reflection through the mirror in front of her - a few feet from where she was sitting. Pam was right all along, orange wasn't her color. It made her look like she had jaundiced skin rather than a healthy tan.

Repressing a shiver when the cold air struck her back again, she stared at her hands that were palms down on the metal table in front of her.

Aside from her appalling clothing and new accessories, this, right here, was giving her a strong sense of déjà vu.

Now, if only Eric would come bustling through that door.

* * *

**E/S**

_**Eighteen hours ago...**_

It started like any other ordinary day. Only that it wasn't.

She gritted her teeth as she released her grip on the pull-tab of the black luggage that was lying on the foot of her old four-poster single mattress bed. Slumping on the floor, she glared at the hard-shell suitcase before she began yanking at the pull-tab one more time.

"You need help with that?"

It was Pam, standing with one hand at the spine of the door.

Sookie didn't look up as she continued wrestling with the small metallic pull-tab. "I can do it."

Pam marched to her side, kneeling in front of the suitcase. "Here, let me help you," she offered, reaching for the tab.

With a sharp turn to the side and a yank of her hand Sookie glowered at the leggy blonde. "I _said_ I can do it," she snapped.

Pam flinched and pulled away. She met the Southerner's seizing stare for a moment until they fell into a charged stalemate. Pam blinked first and Sookie lowered her eyes back to the recalcitrant baggage. The leggy blonde hoisted herself up and sat at the edge of the creaky bed, tracing her finger at the flower stitching on the bedspread.

"I don't know what's wrong with this stupid zipper," Sookie grumbled almost inaudibly. "I did everything right. I folded the clothes neatly. I arranged them so everything fits perfectly but it still wouldn't budge."

Shifting in her seat, Pam glanced at the blonde on the floor. They both knew the zipper wasn't the problem.

"For the record, I tried to stop him," Pam whispered, inspecting the threadcount of the floral quilt to avoid Sookie's scathing glare.

Sookie replied with silence.

"It's okay to cry, y'know?" said Pam after a while, trying to sound offhanded. "I'll even drink cheap margaritas with you while we listen to Adele and talk about what an asshole Eric was."

Sookie let out a bitter chuckle, pressing her palm on top of the suitcase while her other hand kept gripping the tab. Biting her lower lip to stop it from quivering, she inhaled sharply through her nose while shaking her head from side to side.

All this time Sookie thought Eric had her all figured out. Flaws and all, including her huge abandonment issue.

"You see the thing is - I'm not really mad. I'm just…" Sookie hushed, drawing her brows closer together, "disappointed."

"Sookie -"

"I know whatever his emergency in Macau is has something to do with Russell," Sookie cut Pam off. She didn't want to hear anymore apologies or excuses. "I'm just so pissed that I'm always the last to know."

Once the words came tumbling out there was no more stopping her. "He's the one who keeps tellin' me we're a team. What kind of fucked up team are we if he can't even tell me what the hell is wrong? It's always like this with him. When things go down the crapper, he'd cast me aside like I can't handle the heat. It makes me feel like I'm such a liability."

"You're his asset, Sookie. You know better than to doubt that." Pam looked as though she wanted to say something else as her lips opened and closed. Lowering her chin, she went back to studying the quilt pattern before she added, "He only wants to protect you."

"That's just it, Pam. I don't need a hero. My dad tried to be a hero. He wanted to rescue us from this slum. And look where it got him." Sookie callously brushed the unwelcome tears that streamed down her cheek. "Y'know, every time Eric races off to god knows where to fix something for me? I get this knot in my stomach. I can't help but think - what if that was the last time I'd see him?"

The leggy blonde got off the bed and sidled up next to Sookie, folding her long legs under her. Reaching for a silk handkerchief inside her purse, her hand slid back and forth toward the weeping Southerner.

Pam must not have been inured to emotional women or tears in general. Finally deciding to tuck the hanky under Sookie's hand on top of the luggage, she reached out to brush stray hair that clung to the Southerner's damp face.

For what seemed like hours they just sat there, finding reprieve in the silence that was only interrupted by Sookie's sporadic and muffled sniffling.

"He'll be fine," Pam hushed, breaking the impasse. "Give him some credit. Eric's smart. He knows what he's doing."

Sookie found no comfort in Pam's reassurance.

Straightening her back, the leggy blonde clapped her hands together and pulled herself up. "Why don't we finish packing here so we can go back to Vegas before sundown? I am not spending another night in this town. Jason and Michele are already on their way to Nola. It's almost noon, if we leave now, we can make it back to Nevada before six. I need my power nap before I work the casinos tonight."

Sookie recognized that tone. It was Pam's way of telling her to get off the emo-juice and start focusing on the bigger picture: _Operation Raven_.

Taking a deep breath, she tried closing the luggage again. Sixth time seemed to be the charm.

Standing up from the polished hardwood floor, she yanked the metal handle that slid upward smoothly and rolled the luggage out of her bedroom. Jake, who met Pam at the front door, climbed the stairs when he saw Sookie emerge and took the baggage from the tear-stricken Southerner.

Casting one last look at her old bedroom, Sookie started dragging her feet one step at a time and followed Jake downstairs. Grazing the polished surface of the oak stair railing, she felt a surge of nostalgia that seemed to make her lungs constrict. She had so much to show Eric. So many stories to share.

She wanted to tell him how much she used to hate spring cleaning. How her grandmother would force her and Jason to scrub every surface of every room. She would tell him she didn't hate it that much anymore. Because as she dusted off and waxed every inch of the house two days ago, she was also thinking of ways to ask him to stay. She decided she would start by saying that although the farmhouse wasn't the North or the Luxor, it could still be _their_ home. Their refuge. All the while wishing he would agree.

She would have to ask him some other time.

God, please let this day end quickly, she prayed. Little did she know that it would be one of those prayers that would be left unanswered.

* * *

**E/S**

_4:28AM_

Her wrists hurt. And her stomach churned and rumbled. She realized she hadn't eaten anything aside from the small serving of Waldorf salad Pam forced her to eat during their flight.

She almost chuckled at the absurdity of her situation. How could someone who was working in a kitchen be so starved?

Never trust a thin chef, Marco would always remind her.

She heard her gut make that shameless growling once more and was glad her company had decided to leave her alone in the freezing room.

If Eric was here right now, he would give her a good berating for skipping meals.

She wondered if he would bring her Chinese food. She was suddenly in the mood for dim sum.

* * *

**E/S**

**_Ten hours ago..._**

"Sook! Phone call for you," Holly called out from her office at the corner of the kitchen beside the pastry section.

The Southerner's heart leaped up to her throat.

'_Eric!'_

After four grueling hours of travel they finally arrived in Las Vegas shortly before sunset. She had dropped off Jason and Michele at the North where Pam ushered them in their assigned suite - a couple of levels down from Sookie and Eric's suite. Pam had asked Sookie to stay at the North while Eric was in Macau for security purposes. Sookie didn't object. She couldn't imagine going home to an empty house, anyway.

Unable to keep her restless mind from wandering back to Eric, she opted to keep the other parts of her body occupied. Sookie decided to head to Fiordilatte to help with the dinner shift since Sam wouldn't be at the North until much later in the evening.

She had left Eric a voicemail before she boarded the small aircraft. Six hours later, still no reply. And every minute of radio silence was torturous.

Wiping her hands clean with the apron that was tied around her waist, she ducked inside the executive chef's office.

"It's Miss Ravenscroft," Holly said, tipping her head toward the cordless phone in front of her. "You can take it outside, hon, I don't mind."

Her shoulders sagged as she took the phone and mouthed a quick 'thank you' to her friend.

"Pam? Did he call?" Sookie asked in a hurried tone, forgoing phone courtesy altogether.

There was a brief pause on the other line.

"He hasn't called. He's probably still in the air," Pam replied in a clinical tone. "It's your sister-in-law."

"Mitch?" Sookie asked. She heard Jason call his new wife Mitchi during their flight to Las Vegas. She thought it was an adorable nickname. Somehow Sookie didn't feel comfortable addressing the new addition to their family by her full name. It reminded her so much of her mother. Jason must have felt the same way. "What about her? Is it the baby? Is she okay?"

"It's best you come here," Pam answered with a distinct sigh. "She's throwing a hormonal fit."

Sookie swore she could hear Pam rolling her eyes through the phone.

Damn it, what did Jason do now, Sookie thought with annoyance. "Where's Jason?"

"That's the problem. He's not here. Your brother, who has been married in less than 24 hours, is in a strip club in Fremont with Rodney right now," Pam declared. The leggy blonde went on to tell Sookie that after Jason sent Michele in the spa, he requested a town car and headed off to Stocks and Bonds – a gentleman's bar at the Strip - with his guard.

"Michele's threatening to go back to Louisiana tonight."

Sookie ground her teeth. She couldn't believe Jason would pull something like this. It was low even for him.

"I'll get him. Stall her until we get back," Sookie said, pressing the phone to her ear with her shoulder while she untied the knot of her apron. She wondered if she still had time to give Jason a bitch slap before she handed him over to his wife.

* * *

**E/S **

_4.39AM_

She fought the urge to tug at her sleeves as she felt another shudder threatening to give away her discomfort. She knew someone was watching her, looking for any signs of weakness. Ready to pounce the minute she showed them one.

No. She wouldn't give them any.

Instead, she closed her eyes and let her mind paint a picture of a tropical place. Uganda sounded so lovely right now. She could imagine Eric smirking at her admission. _'I knew you'd agree,'_ he would tell her.

Another strong blast of chilly air grazed her back. Grinding her teeth to stop them from chattering, she thought of the blazing Ugandan sun frying the skin on her back. Damn, skin cancer. She would get her tan.

For the first time after she had read his note, she actually smiled.

* * *

**E/S**

**_Nine hours ago..._**

"Maybe you should just stay here, Sookie. It can be pretty scandalous inside," Jake said, twisting toward the backseat of the dark SUV as he unbuckled his seatbelt. Stocks and Bonds, which had a big billboard of a voluptuous woman wearing fishnet stockings, black leather lingerie and a police cap, wasn't difficult to find amid the sea of sleazy bars halfway down the red light district of Fremont. The woman on the board was holding a long whip that coiled around her long legs with one hand, while her other hand had a metal handcuff wrapped around her wrist. Apparently, Stocks and Bonds were short for Stockings and Bondage.

How cute.

"I've seen worse," Sookie replied from the backseat of the dark SUV as she clasped the top two buttons of her yellow cardigan. Images from her trip with Pam at the Red Cavern flashed in her head in lurid details. She pinched her eyes shut to shake the memories away before she opened her door and hopped off the car. She wanted this errand to be over and done with quickly.

Jake followed suit but kept his hand on the door before he turned to Clancy in the driver's seat. "Park near the side entrance –keep the engine running. Mr. Northman won't like her to be spotted in a place like this."

The slightly built Caucasian with a crew cut and a trimmed goatee bobbed his head as he gripped the handbrake and pushed it down. With a thud Jake slammed the door and tapped the roof of the vehicle. Adjusting the rearview mirror, Clancy spied Sookie's knives' roll in the backseat. He reached for it and put it under his seat before he twisted the wheel to get back to the main road.

"What brings you to our side of town, Jacky?" a big bald man with a Semper Fi tattoo around his wrist greeted the newcomers in front of the double glass doors of the bar.

Jake cocked his head and pried the toothpick that he was chewing on from the side of his mouth. "Just picking up a friend, Nick. You don't mind, do you?"

"She with you?" Nick asked, pointing to Sookie with a nudge of his hairless head.

"Yup. And I'll appreciate it if we can be real discreet 'bout her," replied Jake casually, flicking the toothpick at the narrow gutter at the side of the bar.

Nick raked his heavy lidded eyes over Sookie, his thick caterpillar brows drawing together.

Jake cleared his throat loudly, drawing the bald guy's attention back to him. "Nick?" he asked, taking half a step to the side to block Sookie from the bouncer's lecherous gaze. "Are you gonna let us in or do we hafta use the back door?"

The deep crease on the bald guy's forehead eased up. "Are you carrying?"

Dipping his head, Jake's eyes darted to his boots and tugged the left part of his jeans to reveal the grip of the black .9mm semi-automatic pistol that was tucked inside his brown combat boot. What Jake didn't disclose was the switchblade inside his other shoe. Just in case Nick wanted him to deposit his burner at the door. Jake didn't care much for guns anyway. He worked well with knives - less scandalous.

"Just pickin' up someone, huh?" Nick grumbled, eyeing Jake suspiciously.

"In and out, brother," Jake quipped with a light shrug.

Nick turned away from the messy haired Jake and the blonde behind him, stepping forward to check the line of customers that were piling up at the side of the door. "Make it quick," the bouncer said, giving Jake and Sookie wide berth at the glass doors. "Don't make a mess, Jacky. I hate cleaning up."

Jake smirked before he grabbed the door-pull and let Sookie in. They were blocked by a blackout curtain at the entrance. Raising his palm to stop Sookie, he swiped the heavy curtain and led the way.

The glare of the red strobe lights greeted them. It complimented the dark room that reeked of cigarettes. Wisps of smoke curled in the air, making their eyes water. There were at least three gilded cages suspended from the ceiling with topless women in leather thongs and fishnet stockings inside swaying to the beat of 'Welcome To The Jungle' by Guns 'N Roses.

The cages were only side shows because the main attraction was at the sunken stage at the far end, which was diagonal from the liquor bar. Round see-through glass tables with stainless steel frames surrounded the stage occupied by patrons –mostly men – in different attires. Some were suit-and-tied while most wore casual jeans and shirts.

"Over there," Jake whispered, leaning over to Sookie's ear while pointing his head toward the bar.

Squinting her eyes as she inched her head forward, Sookie managed to spot Rodney. The black guy with a short afro and a full beard sat at one of the tall barstools, his dark round eyes fixed on one of the doors marked Wall Street.

Jake grabbed Sookie's wrist as they made their way toward Rodney with cool, calculated steps. The first rule in a seedy place like this: Act like you belong. The staff and the regulars could smell shame and guilt from a mile away.

"Rodney," Jake called out when they were just a few steps away from the medium built sentry. Rodney, who was about to take a swig of his beer, paused midway and swung off his high barstool. He gave Jake a mechanical nod before he turned his attention to Sookie with apprehensive eyes.

"Where is he?" Sookie asked a little more gruffly than she intended.

Pivoting his head back to the Wall Street door, Rodney raised his chin. "In there. One of the waitresses slipped him a note and the next thing I know he's requesting a private show in that room. It's been over half an hour since he went in," he explained, raking his hand over his thick, curly hair as he swayed on his feet, obviously discomfited by Sookie's presence.

"Why don't I go in first?" Jake offered, looking at Sookie, a sly smirk crawling up lips. "Unless you're ready to see your big brother in a compromising position."

Rolling her eyes, Sookie took a deep breath before she grunted, "okay". Jake sauntered toward the private rooms that were strategically positioned at the back of the main stage, hidden from plain view of the customers who were enjoying the cheap show.

Jake pressed his ear at the door and wasn't surprised to find it soundproofed. Two waitresses waltzed toward him but the scruffy sentry shooed them away with the help of a couple of Benjamin Franklins. After a few minutes, he seized the knob and gave it a clockwise twist. He was taken aback when the brass knob didn't offer any resistance. Ducking his head inside, he scanned the room. There was a red plush sofa that was customized to fit the padded walls. Led candles were hanging from the low ceiling giving the room a soft gleam. A small oval glass table was right smack at the middle of the cramped space. On top of it were unused black plastic ashtray and a half-filled glass of clear liquor with a wedge of lime floating inside. Gin and tonic, Jake assumed.

The entertainment area was small and seemingly unoccupied. Trying to get inside through the slim entrance, Jake pushed the door wide open but something was blocking it from swinging all the way in. He bowed his head down to look for the obstruction.

'_Shit.'_

Jake's tongue seemed to have swelled inside his mouth when he saw what was barricading the door.

It was a pairs of legs lying on top of each other in an askew position on the black and white linoleum. And he knew exactly who they belonged to.

Jason Stackhouse.

Shoving the door with his shoulder, Jake squeezed himself in to confirm his fear. It was indeed the older Stackhouse, jackknifed on the floor with his upper body leaning against the cushion of the upholstered sofa. Jake kicked the door shut behind him before he dove to the ground and pressed two fingers under Jason's jawline. Jake let out a puff of breath when he felt Jason's steady pulse palpitating against the pads of his index and middle fingers. A few seconds later he heard Sookie whisper-yell at the other side of the door, insisting he let her in.

'_Not yet.'_ The last thing Jake needed was to make her more upset than she already was.

Keeping the heel of his boot firmly against the door to stop Sookie or Rodney from barging in, Jake examined Jason for wounds. Looking under his unbuttoned checked flannel shirt, he scanned his torso for injuries running his palm under Jason's black wife beater. His palms ran up to Jason's head, slowly raking the older Stackhouse's hair from the nape to the forehead to check for skull fracture. He, thankfully, found none.

Turning to his left, Jake extended his arm to dip his little finger inside the sweating glass atop the table and then darted his tongue out to flick his pinky.

Salty. Too salty with a bitter aftertaste that wasn't typical in a vodka or gin tonic. Jake knew enough about pharmaceutical to know when a drink was spiked with antipsychotic and sedatives. If he were to take a guess it would be a toss-up between Ketamine or Rohypnol. Date-rape drugs.

Jake found it curious since he didn't think Jason was the kind of guy who needed a lot of persuasion into whipping his cock out. However, Jason was a married man now. So, Jake could be wrong.

Was it as simple as that? Some whore trying to force herself into Jason? A private show gone wrong? It didn't make sense because the male Stackhouse had gone to the club and asked for some hanky panky in private out of his own volition.

"Jake!" he heard Sookie whisper-hiss one more time, followed by a couple of aggravated raps of her knuckles. She was getting antsy. "Is Jason there?"

Gripping the cold round door handle, Jake lifted himself up. Without taking his eyes off the unmoving Stackhouse, he stepped backward to let the other Stackhouse in. The knob clicked and the door yawned open just enough to let Sookie inside.

Her reaction was instantaneous, Sookie's hand clapped over her mouth to stifle a surprised cry when she saw her brother on the floor, head drooping with his chin to his chest. Jake noticed her knees buckle and he reflexively clamped both hands over her upper arms to keep her from falling.

"He's alive, Sookie. Just knocked out cold, but he's stable," Jake hushed as calmly as he could.

She wrestled out of Jake's grip and lunged toward the sofa. Kneeling beside her sibling, she cupped his face and lifted it to level with hers. Stroking his cheek dotingly, she whispered his name over and over, begging him to wake up.

Stepping over Jason's legs, Jake pulled the door open and called Rodney in. The dark sentry went in and his eyes darted from the Stackhouses to Jake, searching for answers he was supposed to have.

Rodney never got to utter a word when Jake grabbed the collar of his green golf shirt and slammed him against the door. "How the hell did this happen?" Jake hissed, his face inches away from Rodney's.

"I-I-I don't -" Rodney stuttered, choking against Jake's hard knuckles that were squashing his Adam's apple.

"You're supposed to watch him," snarled Jake, drops of spit flying out of his mouth.

Rodney made a hacking sound as he tried to pry Jake's fingers off his shirt.

"Stop it!" Sookie cried, wrapping her fingers around Jason's armpits as she tried to pull him up. "We need to get Jason to a hospital. He's not wakin' up!"

Releasing Rodney, Jake leaped toward the Stackhouses as Rodney bent over and cupped his throat, heaving short and shallow pants.

"We can't get him outta here like this," Jake said, helping Sookie carry Jason to the sofa.

"The back door," Rodney stammered in a hoarse voice. "The bartender said the girls use a service door to enter the private rooms when I asked where Jason's escort was."

Eyebrows shooting up, Jake started scanning the small area. Yes, of course! That was common protocol in adult clubs in Vegas. The patrons – especially the first-timers, who didn't have their 'usual' yet – would be handed a catalogue with the pictures of women that were classified by numbers. Once the number had been chosen, the moderator would usher the customer inside a specific room. The woman of their choosing would enter through a service door leading to her respective room to keep everything hugger-mugger. It was mainly for the benefit of the client. These men may be pigs but even pigs didn't want to know whose asses went into in their mud bath.

There were no other visible entryways. But it didn't mean there wasn't any. Jake spied a small space at the corner – about 15 inches wide – where the customized couch ended.

Glancing back to Rodney, Jake gave out an instruction. "Call Clancy. Tell him to meet us behind the alley, two blocks from here." He marched toward the padded wall with a small mounted butt-shaped lamp. He palmed the cushioned edge and gave it a gentle push. His lips curled into a smirk when the wall slid open with a soft creak.

The apologetic dark guard, who had fully recovered from Jake's attack, went to the Stackhouse siblings' side and hauled Jason off the couch.

Bending on one knee, Jake snatched the handgun inside his boot before he slithered his head into the next room to do his usual recon. He had been inside Stocks and Bonds once when it was still named Innuendo. Based on the location of the private rooms, Jake was certain the employees' entrance and the kitchen pantry were behind the adjacent quarter that they were about to enter. If they were lucky enough to evade the staff, they could be out of the strip club in five minutes. Ten, tops. Using his free hand, he waded through racks after racks of fur, lacy and leathery undergarments that were lined up to cover the opposite side of the wall.

As far as he could tell, it was a dressing room for the showgirls. He could see the top line of light bulbs that framed the wall mirror at the other half of the rather large room that was suspiciously quiet. The Wall Street area might be free of intrusive sounds, but the dressing room was not. Jake could practically feel the walls thumping with different kinds of music that was in harmony with some over-the-top sex noises.

Finding the lack of audience unsettling rather than encouraging, Jake raised his gun to level with his face and bent low to hide behind the racks. Granted it was peak hours for a joint like this, but for the vanity area to be totally empty? He didn't think so.

Turning his head to check on his company, Jake saw Rodney's large frame squeezing through the narrow entrance. He gestured for Rodney to keep his head low before he whipped his phone out of his pocket and dialed Pam's number. As soon as they secured Jason in the car, Jake and Rodney would have to stay back to do some damage control. He would have to buy Nick's silence, of course. And he would also need a clean-up crew. This was the kind of publicity Mr. Northman would not approve of. Especially with Sookie so closely involved.

"Yes?" he heard Pam's bored tone through the other line. He could hear the chorus of bells and sirens of the slot machines at the background. The North's deputy commander must be manning the floor at the casino.

"We have a problem," Jake answered without preamble.

"You didn't lose Jason, did you?" There was an immediate alarm in her tone.

Jake glanced over his shoulder. "We got him."

There was a heavy sigh at the other end. "Please tell me Jason's stupidly drunk and had his dick buried so deep you couldn't pull it out."

Jake wished that was the conundrum.

"I'm afraid the problem's bigger than his dick," Jake grumbled as he finally managed to push most of the clothes' racks out of the way just as Rodney towed Jason halfway through the passageway as quietly as he could.

There was a pregnant pause on the other line and Jake could hear the sound of the slot machines fading out as Pam dashed out of the main floor.

"Is she alright?" he finally heard her ask, evidently worried.

There was only one _she_ that was worth mentioning.

They both knew how important it was to keep _her_ safe. Damn, anyone. If Eric Northman's girl got in any kind of trouble, it would be their heads on the chopping board. The terrifying thing about that notion was, with Eric's current state, it could easily mean literally.

"She's fine," Jake said quickly, pacifying the blonde back at the North. He still didn't know how to explain their situation to Pam, though. How could he tell her that Jason seemed to be unharmed but unconscious?

"So. What the fuck is the problem?"

Jake's fingers tightened around the grip of his nine mil - his thumb skating across the miniscule safety latch at the side. Using the last double-pipe steel clothes' rack as cover, he aimed his gun straight. He wasn't entirely sure they were the only people in the room but he was prepared to challenge anyone dumb enough to ambush them as he shoved the rack to the middle of the well-lighted space with a gentle kick.

However, as the other side of the room came into his full view, it was Jake who was caught off guard. The words in his head seemed to mash up in an incoherent jargon as he stared at one of the wooden high back chairs in front of the mirror against the wall.

In the chair was a middle-aged man with long jet-black hair that was tied up in a low ponytail with his back to Jake. His arms were slacking at both sides while his head was thrown backward as though he had fallen asleep.

But through the man's reflection at the mirror, Jake certain it was the kind of slumber no one could wake up from. In his line of work, Jake knew a dead man when he saw one.

Turning sharply at both sides to survey the rest of the room for any more surprises, Jake walked toward the lifeless figure with a wide slit around his neck. His gun was in defensive mode while his phone was still pressed to his ear. As Jake stepped closer to assess the extent of the damage, he couldn't help but wince at the reflection of the Colombian necktie that was bouncing off the mirror. Colombian necktie was a method of execution that could be traced back a hundred years ago to the _Cosa Nostra_ in Italy, wherein the victim's throat was slashed and the person's tongue was pulled out through the wound.

A professional job.

As Jake got closer, the upper half of the man's face was getting more discernible.

'_Holy fuck!'_

The man's eyes were wide open, his pupils had dilated. He knew those empty eyes.

A sharp gasp behind him made Jake turn around.

"Oh my god!" Sookie exclaimed in a shaky voice as she stood beside Rodney, who was half-carrying, half-dragging the immobile Jason.

Jake could hear Pam's demanding voice ringing in his ear as she repeated her question over and over again.

Meeting Sookie's dreadful gaze, Jake lowered his gun and clutched the phone tighter.

"What the fuck is going on, Jake!" he could hear Pam demanding through the other line.

"Pam, I think it's time to call Eric now," he spoke through the receiver. "Someone pulled a mob job on Longshadow."

* * *

"Look away, Sookie!" hissed Jake at her. But tried as she might she couldn't tear her eyes off the mirror in front of her. She could hear Jake murmuring in his phone as he grasped the back of his head, as though prying his skull open.

Sookie could see red. Literally. It was a car wreck that she couldn't look away from.

Longshadow was the name Jake had given Pam. Was it really Longshadow? The man who had tormented them for the past decade? He didn't look so tough now with his tongue hanging out from his… neck?

'_Oh god.' _

She could feel the sour taste of acid stinging the inside of her mouth as it sprung from her throat. Without any more warning she bent over and hurled. She could feel Jake's warm brown eyes boring into her as she clutched her stomach.

She would apologize for the mess later because right now all she wanted to do was to purge. To feel empty.

Jake's strong hands grabbed her arms and kept her steady. She was thankful for that because she didn't know if she had enough strength not to fall face flat in her own vomit.

Still despondent from the shock, Sookie straightened her back to regain composure. To project a brave front. But it was useless because her knees were still buckling as her gut continued to twist. Taking a deep breath she blinked rapidly. She would not cry. Not a single tear would be shed for the man in front of her.

It was like watching a Hitchcock movie. But it wasn't a movie. It was her life. And the dead man that was soaking in his own blood wasn't the victim. He was one of the villains. She had to remind herself that over and over again to keep from breaking down.

Jake remained at her side, running his palms up and down her back soothingly. Rodney, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight.

She didn't have the energy to ask Jake where Rodney was as she darted a glance at her brother who was lying on the floor beside one of the racks.

Jake turned toward the door as though he was waiting for something.

That something came in a form of a bell. A very loud and shrill bell.

The fire alarm.

It was disaster after disaster and Sookie wondered if she could survive the night. She recalled her conversation with Pam in the farmhouse, the one when she told her how she always feared it would be the last time she would she Eric. _'No. God, please, no.'_

Frenzied rumbling followed quickly across the hall from the adjacent rooms as frantic footsteps pounded against the walls. Ever so gently, Jake helped Sookie lean against one of the chairs before he dashed to the dressing room door. Rodney quietly slipped back inside the vanity area through the narrow entrance from the Wall Street. Giving Rodney a slight nod, Jake gripped the slender brass knob and pressed his ear against the hardwood. The minutes dragged on.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Then came the soft knocks at the door.

"Tony's Pizza. Extra anchovies."

Jake tugged the knob and tore the door open to let the cavalry in.

Four men in black firefighter suits made a beeline toward Sookie. Taking off their protective helmet, Sookie recognized one of them.

Pam.

The familiar leggy blonde with an unfamiliar scowl rushed toward Sookie. Pam kept mum as she gave Sookie a once-over. "You okay?" she asked.

Sookie could only bob her head in assent. Satisfied, Pam handed her a set of bunker gear to wear, which the Southerner took without question.

The rest of Pam's company started working the vicinity. The clean-up crew.

Sookie learned later on that it was Rodney who started the fire in the women's toilet by tampering with the circuit of the hand dryer. It was isolated enough not to endanger anyone but the spark was big enough to trigger the fire alarm. Pam and Jake had deliberated between two options: fire alarm or fake raid. In the case of fire, a person's survival instinct trumped everything else so as soon as the bell rang everyone would flee. In a fake raid, keeping up appearances was top priority, the first thing the girls and the horny patrons would do were to find a backdoor where they could sneak out or a secret room where they could hide.

They needed both the door and the room. So, fire alarm was it.

While the scene outside was chaotic and unruly, the atmosphere in the dressing room was methodical and quiet. The crew that came in with Pam erased every trace of evidence in the area with a concoction of strong cleaning solvents and latex gloves.

Pam barked out orders, never once complained about the stench of the vomit or the blood.

"Did you find it?" Pam asked Jake after a while.

Jake responded with a shake of his head. "I searched everywhere."

"Then we have no choice, do we?" Pam said, pointing her gaze to the white elephant in the room: _Longshadow_.

"We have to get rid of him," Jake replied, tucking his hands in his pocket. "Without the weapon there's no way we can be sure if Jason killed the scumbag."

Sookie snapped her head to Jake before her eyes flitted to Pam. The implication that Jason could be the person who murdered Longshadow plucked her out of her stupor. "He didn't do it!" she said between gritted teeth.

"Jason didn't do it," Sookie repeated, enunciating every syllable. "Someone wants to frame my brother! That's why they lured him here and drugged him. Jason couldn't do this." She stabbed a finger at the grotesque image of Longshadow through the mirror. "Look at him. My brother is not capable of this. I swear it." Her eyes were brimming with unshed tears and she despised her own weakness.

"I know," replied Pam, lowering her chin to meet Sookie's beseeching eyes. "I know," she echoed, firmly this time as though she had just accepted the fact that Jason wasn't a murderer.

It was good enough for Sookie.

"All the more reason to make him disappear," Jake interjected, cocking his head to the side. "How did he even know where to find this asshole?" The question was for Rodney, who had been extremely quiet, as he leaned at the door.

"I remember he was clutching a note when he asked me to bring him here. That might be it," Rodney answered, shifting his weight to his other foot.

Jake shook his head. "I didn't find any note on him when I checked him for wounds."

"Sookie's right. This is a set up. We must get rid of him before the cops get a whiff of this shit," Pam butted in, placing a hand on her hip, which looked awkward on her given her attire. "We can't take any chances. I say we dump him in the desert and let the coyotes have a feast."

"No. Not the desert. That ain't fast enough. Quicklime or sulfuric acid. They burn faster. Tony stocked up a few bags of SA near McCarran. I can do it," Jake said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Sookie couldn't help but shudder. What had her life become? How could she agree to something as depraved as covering up a murder?

Yes, Longshadow was despicable and Sookie knew that somewhere in the deep, dark recesses of her mind she had fantasized putting that man in a shallow grave. But there was a big difference between dreaming about it and actually doing it. That was the reason why she knew with every bone in her trembling body that Jason didn't kill Longshadow. Their gran taught them better than that.

Jake turned his gaze back to the blondes, waiting for the greenlight. He wasn't looking at Pam though. In lieu of Eric, it was Sookie who was burdened with the task of making the executive decision.

What if Longshadow has – _had_—a family? A wife? Children who would like to give him a proper burial, Sookie debated internally as she kept her gaze at the mirror, suppressing the urge to throw up again. If she were to decide the fate of this man, she should at least have the decency to look at him.

Family, she contemplated. Lifting her eyes to steal a glimpse on the floor, she stared at her brother. The only family she had left. Him and Eric.

There was nothing she wouldn't do to protect them. This wasn't the time to be righteous. It was no coincidence that Longshadow was found ten feet from where Jason was. Someone was out to get him, get_ them_.

They had to pull a magic trick on Longshadow. They had to make him disappear. Longshadow was already dead, Sookie repeated in her head. _'But by dissolving all traces of him, you're also depriving him of justice,'_ a voice in her head disputed. The same justice she was seeking for her father. Clenching her jaw, she trained her eyes on Jake. She was certain that one day she would pay for what she was about to do. But that day would have to wait, because tonight she would save her brother. Her gran would just have to forgive her for it.

With a simple nod she had given them the final order: _burn Longshadow into oblivion_.

Jake and Rodney, who had also changed into black and yellow turnout gears that Pam had brought in for them, took care of the dirty work. They hauled his body, both wincing at the dead weight, and sealed him inside the body bag.

They waited until the rumbling became faint outside before they snuck out through the backdoor with their fake uniforms on and protective gears that efficiently covered their faces. Clancy, who was waiting idly for them, gave the two clean-up guys a hand in lifting Longshadow into the white windowless van, that had Spic-and-Span Laundry scribbled in blue bold letters, while the three cleaners took charge of the rented fire truck. Clancy volunteered to dispose Longshadow's remains as he sped off with the laundry van while Pam, Sookie, Jake, Rodney and Jason were aboard the black SUV that Sookie, Jake and Clancy used to drive to Stocks and Bonds.

Less than a minute later, another fire truck - sirens blazing – was scrambling to get through the packed street. Little did the firemen know that the real fire had already been extinguished.

* * *

**E/S**

_4:45AM_

She was no longer bothered by the cold. She had grown accustomed to it. It was a victory she would savor while she still could.

Replaying the events of the night and the night prior to that, she could only dig her nails hard against her palms as she thought of how her sheer, unparalleled bliss turned into an unforgiving and seemingly endless nightmare.

It was like an earthquake. No one could really predict when it would hit. You wouldn't know it was coming until you feel the ground beneath your feet tremble and threaten to topple you down. You could only hope that when it was over you still had something to stand on.

But it really wasn't the earthquake that frightened her, because everyone knew, it was the aftershock that could do the most damage.

* * *

**E/S**

**_Three hours ago..._**

Propping her elbows on top of the cushioned armrest, Sookie gripped both sides of her head as she watched a single drop of water build into a pregnant swell at the tip of her wet hair before it fell on the skirt of her white eyelet sundress.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of her choice of clothing. How dare she wear a Puritanical dress an hour after she ordered a man to be burned into ashes? Hypocrite.

She could hear Michele's sniffling from the next room as her sister-in-law laid down with her husband who was still in a drug-induced coma. As soon as they came back to the North, Pam had called in Dr. Ludwig, the in-house physician, to diagnose Jason's condition. Like Jake had predicted Jason had ingested a large quantity of sedative that would probably last for 10-12 hours. The miniscule doctor took a vial of Jason's blood for testing to be certain what type of drug it was. Her theory was a high dose of Special K. Ketamine.

Stealing a glance at her lifeless phone on the center table, Sookie couldn't help but curse it and its unbearable silence. If she could only hear his voice, she was sure it would calm her down.

As though sensing her distress, Pam decided to speak up, raising her head from her tablet. "I checked in with my contact in Macau. They're still in the air. It's a 15-hour flight from LAX. I'm sure he'd call as soon as they land."

Sookie grabbed her phone off the table and checked the time. It was half past two. If Pam were right Eric should be landing in Macau in less than two hours.

The front door swung open and revealed a dishevelled Jake.

"Clancy's back. He decided to burn the body in an abandoned warehouse beside McCarran. I sent someone to check on it to make sure it goes by unnoticed by roving police cars," Jake said in his business tone.

"And the bouncer?" Pam asked, cocking a perfectly lined brow.

"Already paid for. Nick didn't see any of us walk in his joint."

Pam seemed satisfied as she leaned back on the couch.

"It's time," Jake stated, peering inside the adjacent bedroom where Jason and Michele were. "We don't know how long we have before the cops find the blade that was used to gut Longshadow. And believe me if someone really wants to set Jason up, it _will_ turn up soon."

During their short drive to the North they had arrived to a decision that Jason must be transported out of Vegas as soon as possible. The closest and most feasible place to relocate her brother would be with Marco in Los Angeles. Jason and Michele would be in Marco's Montecito townhouse before sunrise if they leave right now, Jake stressed.

They all agreed that it would be best if Sookie stayed in Las Vegas. It would look suspicious if all the Stackhouses flee together. The priority was to secure Jason.

Clancy also offered to drive the newlyweds to Los Angeles along with Michele's assigned guard, Liam. Somehow, no one trusted Rodney to keep Jason safe anymore.

As soon as Sookie gave another executive command, Clancy, Liam and Rodney moved with surgeon-like precision and lugged Jason to one of the rented hybrid cars. Sookie went to the basement lot to see Jason and Michele off, all the while trying to appease her sister-in-law that everything would be fine. That Jason would wake up soon and that Sookie would follow them in California. She had no problem lying to Michele.

Lying seemed to be the theme of the day, and it all started with Eric.

* * *

**E/S**

_4:50AM_

_'It won't be long now,'_ she thought almost impatiently. A few more minutes and she would hear his voice again.

She had been praying so, so hard for it. Just a word, one word. God missed her first call when she asked for an uneventful evening. But it didn't matter. God would grant her this one.

She wondered if she would pretend to be mad at first, just to tease him. Would she have enough time for such silly games? And more important, would he buy it? He knew her too goddamned well. He would be able to sense the elation in her tone.

Forever the fox, that one. Nothing could escape him.

* * *

**E/S**

**_Two hours ago..._**

Pam and Sookie were on their way back to Eric's office when a couple of uniformed men caught up with them. Pam froze momentarily. She immediately recognized the khaki-colored uniform. Las Vegas Metropolitan District Police.

"Miss Ravenscroft?" the taller man with a crew cut asked, while keeping his hand at the side of the elevator, stopping the metal doors from sliding out.

Pam could sense Sookie tense up too. They could only hope that Clancy was a fast driver.

"Yes, officers?" Pam replied sweetly, batting her lashes for effect. "What can I do you for in this ungodly hour?"

Before the tall cop could reply, a pot-bellied man with balding gray hair in an ill-fitting black suit and tie appeared beside the two uniformed cops. Sheriff Bobby Burnham.

'_This can't be good,'_ the leggy blonde thought warily.

"Sheriff," Pam exclaimed, plastering her saccharine smile on, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Miss Ravenscroft," Sheriff Burnham nodded, tugging at his blazer that was clearly not his, "is Mr. Northman around?"

Tilting her head to the side, Pam shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sheriff, but Mr. Northman's out on a business trip. Can I take a message?"

She knew she had to buy Jason and Michele a little more time.

Burnham flicked his dark green eyes from Pam to Sookie before they narrowed into slits.

"Are you Miss Sookie Stackhouse?" asked Burnham, his lips curling into a Schadenfreude smile.

Sookie straightened her back and forced herself to beam. "Yes, sir. I am."

Sheriff Burnham took a step forward as he reached for a piece of paper inside his blazer. "Sookie Stackhouse, you are under arrest for the murder of Lussier Sampson also known as Longshadow."

Pam felt her whole body shrinking as she stood inside the metal box, slack-jawed. She could hear Sookie call her name but Pam couldn't move. She saw one of the officers pull Sookie out of the lift, grab both her hands and lock her wrists together with a handcuff. She could hear the Sheriff read Sookie her Miranda rights.

It was all too fast for Pam, who, for the first time in her life, was shocked to the point of inertia.

The tall officer released his grip on the elevator door. It was sliding shut when Pam managed to stab her hand in the air and stopped the metal doors from clamping together.

Stepping out of the lift she saw the tall cop place a restraining hand on Sookie's nape. Sookie wasn't resisting, though, as she marched out of the North's lobby with her chin jutting up.

Pam ran after them, her five-inch heels clicking against the marble tiles of the hotel's lobby. She managed to catch up to Sookie as they ushered her into the cop car.

"This is a mistake," Pam yelled out running toward the Sheriff who was getting in his dark blue sedan.

"I hate to do this, Miss Ravenscroft, but my hands are tied," Sheriff Burnham stated, spinning on his heel to face the disgruntled blonde. The leer that was fighting to creep out from the side of his face was saying otherwise. And Pam fought the urge to lash out on the deplorable officer.

"If you want to help her, I strongly suggest you call your lawyer," the Sheriff offered before he slid inside his car and slammed the door on Pam.

Pam rushed to the cop car behind the Sheriff's sedan and grabbed the door with both hands before the tall cop could slam it shut.

"It'll be okay, Sookie. I promise," Pam yelled. She spied a handful of gawkers making their way out of the lobby. She couldn't give a flying fuck.

"Tell Eric, I'm sorry. I'll have to take a raincheck on that trip," Sookie replied, her voice was surprisingly calm, always with quiet dignity.

* * *

**E/S**

_4:58AM_

Her eyes darted to the side when the dark brown laminated door burst open for the second time. The tall uniformed officer, who was among the three men who had arrested her, came in followed by a plain clothed man and a suited woman with a beautiful olive complexion.

Sookie identified the girl in a pinstriped suit as Luna Garza, the North's criminal attorney. Luna gave her a warm smile, one that Sookie returned without a second's pause.

The officers had asked Sookie to change into the customary orange overalls as they confiscated the clothes she was wearing for processing. They matched well with her shiny handcuffs that kept chafing the thin skin on her wrists. Good luck getting evidence from that, Sookie had mused.

A forensic specialist, who introduced herself as Special Agent Lilian Neave had taken her fingerprints and swabbed the inside of her mouth for DNA. In less than an hour she was arrested and booked for a crime she did not commit. But still she complied. She had to cooperate, knowing she would call in a favor later. Because she knew Pam would arrange for her counsel she would not be allowed to make a phone call anymore. But she needed to call him. If only to say hi… or goodbye.

Luna and Pam came barging in the precint shortly after them but only Luna was allowed to see Sookie. Luna had promised Sookie that she would straighten it out or at the very least arrange for bail. Sookie nodded but knew deep inside it was futile. There was no bail for murder.

That was the time Luna left Sookie in the cold interrogation room.

"Time's up, Miss Stackhouse," said the man in plain clothes and neatly-styled black hair. She heard Luna address him as Detective Lochlan. "Are you ready to talk?"

Sookie glanced at the fake Rolex on Detective Lochlan's wrist. 4:59am. Eric was scheduled to land at seven in the evening in Macau. Raising her head to look at the detective, Sookie spoke for the first time since she was taken into custody.

"Can I still make a phone call?"

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric. **

**I hope the back and forth between the present and the past events of the night wasn't confusing. **

**And before you grab those stakes, please let me remind you, it's always darkest before dawn.**

**If you're still there, THANK YOU! And a big shout out to those who made me feel their presence. **


	42. Chapter 42

"_Your move, Eric." Godric leaned back in his throne-like chair, resting his elbows against the armrest as he steepled his long fingers, squeezing them together. It was one of his father's favorite postures he used when he wanted to intimidate his opponent. One that Eric had perfected through the years._

_Eric's hand hovered over the chessboard, swaying from side to side – deliberating which piece to move. He licked his lips before he lifted the white rook with his pointer- and middle-finger and moved it three paces forward._

_Godric clicked his tongue, shaking his head from side to side as he leaned toward the younger Northman._

"_When will you ever learn, son, you don't sacrifice your queen without a clear shot at the king," chided Godric, cocking his pale eyebrows at his 16-year-old son. "Tell me, Eric, what will be your next move when I do this?" he asked with a condescending smirk before he took Eric's queen and replaced it with his black bishop. _

"_My pawn will take your bishop," Eric replied, mirroring his father's arrogant leer – refusing to balk. _

"_You can do that, yes. But then what will you do when your pawn falls to my rook leaving your king vulnerable to my queen," the elder Northman continued before he took a long drag at his cigar. Godric loved his Cubans. It was the poison that created the black spot in one of his lungs. "That, my son, is called Zugzwang. You no longer hold an offensive post. Every move you make will weaken your stance. You can only run and try to evade my assault up to the bitter end."_

"Mr. Northman." Eric heard someone call his name. "Eric."

Tilting his head in the direction of the sound, Eric opened his eyes, squinting at the glare of the fluorescent lights above him.

Rubbing the sleep off his eyes, he saw his Grecian sentry hovering over him as he stood at the aisle of the small aircraft.

"We have a problem," Roman stated in a low tone.

"Excuse me, sir. But we're landing in a few minutes. I have to ask you to take your seat," the brunette female attendant asked Roman, pausing beside him, before she marched toward her assigned seat near the cockpit.

Roman grunted as he begrudgingly took the leather couch in front of the Viking.

Eric remained silent as he turned his head to the window. It was pitch black.

"What time is it?" Eric croaked with his parched throat. He reached inside his blazer to press the small rectangular button on his phone, turning the device on.

"Almost seven," Roman replied evenly, shifting in his seat.

Eric caught Roman's movement from his periphery. "What is it?" he asked. He had ordered Roman to check in with Pam and Sam every couple of hours. Whatever Roman was about to report did not bode well judging by the look on the sentry's face. Roman was not one to get agitated easily, and the way his Grecian head of security was avoiding his gaze could only mean a code red disaster.

Compton? Russell?

_Sookie?_

No. Not Sookie. It couldn't be about Sookie. She was safe in Las Vegas. She _had_ to be.

"It's Sookie," Roman replied with an unfamiliar hitch in his voice.

'_Goddammit!'_

Eric heard a soft thrumming sound coming off from his phone as it vibrated. Darting his eyes down to his palm, he read the caller ID. It was a blocked number.

He didn't have time for unknown callers. Everyone who mattered had their names registered in the black sleek device he was holding. And the only one that really mattered was in trouble. Whoever his caller was had to wait as he pressed the ignore button and returned his focus back to Roman.

"Do not try to handle me, Roman. What happened to _her_?"

Eric felt his ears tighten and pop as the pressurized aircraft started its descent. He wanted to swallow air to relieve the pressure but the dryness in his throat was getting worse.

"Sookie's arrested for murder," Roman stated, trying his damned best to hold Eric's scathing glare.

'_No. Nonono.'_

Eric's eyes widened as he fought the urge to connect his fist with Roman's jaw. Grinding his teeth so hard he thought they would crack, he lowered his gaze to his now silent phone.

'_Fuck, no.'_ He didn't just miss her call, did he? _'No. God, no.'_ Even in denial he was a fucking coward.

But Roman wasn't done swinging the axe in his gut.

"Russell got on a plane back to Las Vegas from Hong Kong an hour ago. Compton's with him. Someone must have tipped them off that we're coming."

It was a race. And Russell would have at least a two-hour head start.

He remembered his dream. Leaving her in haste was a fatal mistake.

He knew that now.

Russell's pieces were set in motion. He would be gunning after her. It was the only move that could unquestionably weaken Eric. Zug-_fuckme_-zwang.

Sinking deeper in his chair he felt the world spin, faster and yet still excruciatingly slower than he would have wanted.

'_This isn't happening.'_ Sadly, it was.

* * *

**E/S**

'_Pick up,'_ Sookie begged silently as the phone rang for the second time. _'Please, Eric, pick up.'_

"Sorry," the female mechanical voice said through the other line, "the number you dialed is not available at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone."

Sookie put the handset back on its cradle even before she could hear the beep. She turned to the tall uniformed cop who escorted her across the hall and forced an offhanded shrug.

With an annoyed groan he ushered her back into the interrogation room where Luna was waiting patiently for her. Her lawyer had requested to consult in private with her.

"What did Mr. Northman say?" asked Luna as soon as the uniformed cop closed the door behind him.

She shook her head as she sat down in the cool metal chair. "I didn't get to speak with him."

Luna dropped her gaze to the table, letting the awkward moment pass. Clearing her throat, she began sifting through her notes, which included a copy of Sookie's warrant of arrest.

"Pam suggested we bring in Jason for -"

Sookie turned sharply at Luna, her eyes wide with a mix of rage and disbelief. "No!" she snapped. "Leave Jason out of this."

"Sookie, Jason might know something about Longshadow's killer. And even if he doesn't, with both of you as suspects it's enough for reasonable doubt should this thing go to court."

Her fingers curled into fists before they slammed hard against the table. Her handcuffs chafed her skin as they banged and clanked on metal producing a shrill sound that bounced off the walls.

"I am not going to throw my brother under the bus. This is clearly a setup," Sookie spat through gritted teeth. "I know Jason's tough but I'm not sure he's strong enough for this. What if they break him? Pin all of these on him? They will eat my brother alive, Luna."

Sookie buried her face in her palms, taking deep breaths while counting mississippies. Luna reached out to pat Sookie's back when the Southerner jerked her head sideways.

"Find another way to help me without incriminating my brother," Sookie said, drilling Luna with a cold stare. "Because I swear, Luna, if you so much as breathe a word about Jason, I will sign a confession right now and you can go and tell Eric how you lost this case."

Sookie was not proud of how she was handling the criminal lawyer. Using Eric as a threat was a cheap shot - shameful, really. But she had so little to work with and so little time to have everything done.

Luna flinched and gulped. She had been in this business for almost a decade – the last five years had been solely for the Northmans - and she had never seen someone so eager to take the bullet for anyone. Never. In her entire practice she had only lost once, it wasn't even considered a loss because the complainant eventually withdrew after Luna had offered a bargain. It was an assault charge against Sam Merlotte when he tried to force entry in his brother's rehab facility and threw a mean punch at a male nurse.

The female attorney with dark brown hair and olive complexion knew what it meant to lose this case for her career. No, forget her career. If she let Sookie Stackhouse get convicted for a capital crime Luna Garza might as well sign her own death warrant.

* * *

**E/S **

"What the fuck happened?" Eric growled viciously, gripping the phone tightly to his ear.

Eric, along with the rest of his entourage, didn't bother to alight from the plane when they landed in the Macau International Airport. The Viking had ordered a quick return trip back to Vegas and the two pilots, who didn't get a wink of sleep, had good sense not to argue as they requested for an immediate refuel.

"Someone's trying to frame Jason. When it didn't work they went after Sookie. Luna's trying to convince her to bring Jason in as witness. Burnham wasn't forthcoming with me. He left the station after they booked her. Sam's trying to get in touch with his contact in the Department as we speak. So far all we know is that it was an anonymous tip. The investigators in charge didn't want to release the evidence. I can only guess they found the weapon." Pam kept her tone methodical as she relayed the details to Eric. The rasp in her voice was almost imperceptible through the line. Almost.

"She will not drag Jason into this," he gritted out. He was willing to bet the fucking Scarface for that. "She's stubborn enough to take the fall for him." Not for the first time, he despised Sookie's fierceness when it came to her family.

The silence at the other line confirmed his theory.

"Did you call the Mayor?"

Mayor Desmond Cataliades of Las Vegas, who was the also the former sheriff of the Las Vegas police department owed Eric a huge favor since the Viking was one of his major supporters last election.

"He dropped by shortly after we arrived. But that weasel Burnham pulled another sneaky trick when he issued a press release about Sookie's arrest. The story made it to the morning news. With the press breathing down his neck, Cataliades could only pull some strings to delay the arraignment. It was the best we could hope for because the DA's already pushing for a speedy trial. They wanted a conviction."

Of course, they did. It was what Russell would have wanted. For Sookie to end up in the tombs so he could arrange for someone to finish her off inside. Just like what he did to Mac Rattray.

Eric pinched the bridge of his nose, biting his tongue as he swallowed all thoughts of the scumbag swindler. Sookie would not end up like the Rat. He would tear the gates of hell off its hinges to get her out of prison.

"Do everything you can to postpone the arraignment. Do not let them take her into central booking," Eric said haltingly.

"I will."

"How was she?"

"Surprising calm," Pam said with a hint of pride. "She tried calling you -"

"I know," he snapped. His eyes narrowed as he clenched his jaw. He already knew he fucked up - there was no point stating the obvious.

He also knew he was only deflecting. He loathed himself for leaving her but he couldn't afford to self-destruct. Not now. Not while there was an entire ocean separating them. He could hate himself later.

* * *

**E/S**

"Do you know what this is, Miss Stackhouse?" Special Agent Neave asked in her raspy voice, pushing back her thick rimmed glasses to the bridge of her nose. She laid out a transparent zip lock bag that she fished out from the plain brown box with a white sticker that said L. Sampson on the side. The evidence box.

Sookie offered no response. She knew exactly what it was. It was her knives' bag. She recognized the small singe at the top left corner from her first day in Fiordilatte when she had left it near the open grill. Terry had seen it catch fire and quickly tossed it in the sink.

Neave leaned toward Detective Lochlan to murmur something inaudible to Sookie and Luna. Her blazing red hair meshed with Lochlan's jet black locks. It formed an unsettling black and red canvas that made Sookie swallow nervously. She had no doubt that together these two would bury her alive with the right pair of shovels.

"You promised your cooperation in return for your phone call, Miss Stackhouse," Lochlan reminded, pushing the knives' bag closer to Sookie. "Answer the question."

Lowering her chin, Sookie made a show of examining the evidence by leaning forward and squinting her eyes. "It's a bag of knives."

"It's _your_ bag of knives, as a matter of fact. We confiscated it under the passenger seat of your SUV," Neave pointed out.

Luna had told Sookie that after they had arrested her, two more officers – armed with a very detailed search warrant - went through her locker in Fiordilatte and her suite at the North, as well as the vehicle her guards used to drive her to the restaurant earlier. Sookie knew they wouldn't find the clothes she had worn in Stocks and Bonds. Pam had disposed them along with Jason and Jake's.

"You seem to be missing a knife there, Miss Stackhouse," Lochlan chimed in, pointing to the stitched up slot where her filleting knife was supposed to be.

Sookie licked her lips, fixing her eyes on the bag. She was sure she had it packed when she left the restaurant earlier.

"I think this will complete your collection." Neave fished out a smaller zip lock bag from the box. Surprise, surprise, it was her missing blade covered with dried blood.

The image of a man with long black hair, head sagging backward with his tongue pulled out from the cut around his throat swirled in Sookie's head. She fought a strong urge to throw up as she bit her inner cheeks.

"Your fingerprint is all over the handle. And that, right there, is Lussier Sampson's blood," the redhead declared, tapping her ragged nail over the bag. Her eyes raked over Sookie's face with unforgiving eyes. "We went through Mr. Sampson's dossier. We know he was a loan shark. We also know that you used to owe Mr. Sampson a hefty amount of money. Money your father owed him years ago. That, Miss Stackhouse, gives you motive."

"That debt had been settled. My client no longer has any connection to the deceased," Luna butted in, placing her palms on the table.

"Yes. We are quite aware of how Mr. Northman settled your debt," Lochlan said with a leer. "Must be so nice to have such a wealthy boyfriend."

"Do you have any more questions, Detective? Or are we here to gossip about my client's lovelife?"

Lochlan shot Luna a withering glare before he turned to his silent suspect. Crossing his arms over his chest he arranged his features to remain professional. "Where were you between nine and ten o'clock last night?"

"I was working the dinner shift at Fiordilatte," Sookie replied without missing a beat.

"No, you're not. According to your time card, you logged in at six but you didn't log out at 11. We looked at the surveillance tape from the restaurant and saw you leaving the kitchen at exactly 9:03, looking a bit disgruntled, if I may add. But you're not stressed enough to leave your bag behind, are you?" Lochlan said in a sing-song tone, clearly enjoying every second of the custodial interrogation.

"We found Mr. Sampson's body in a dumpster three blocks from the restaurant where you work," Neave interjected. "You seem like a healthy young woman, but there was still no way you could take on a 5-foot-11 man by yourself much less lift that much dead weight after you killed him, which tells us you are not working alone." She inched forward, tilting her head to the side. "Give us the name of your accomplice. We can't promise to downgrade your charge from first-degree murder but it just might save you from the chair. I'm sure you know Nevada one of the few states that still allow capital punishment."

"You're badgering my client, Agent," Luna hissed beside Sookie. But the Southerner was no longer paying attention. Her mind was being bombarded with different scenarios.

"We retrieved the knife you used to stab Mr. Sampson and the disposable cell he used to call the North four hours prior to his death," Lochlan stated smugly.

Pushing his chair back he ducked his head so he could level his eyes with Sookie. "You know what I think happened, Miss Stackhouse? I think Mr. Sampson called you and blackmailed you for more money considering your limitless resources." He cocked his eyebrow, egging Sookie to challenge his theory. When she stayed mute he resumed with his deduction. "That was when you decided you had had enough of his fuckery and cooked up a plan to end him once and for all. You asked him to meet you near your restaurant so you could have the perfect alibi later. Then you and your accomplice attacked him, gave him the Colombian necktie so it would look like a gang hit." He flipped the brown folder open and yanked a photo with Longshadow's headshot printed on it.

Sookie suppressed a shudder as she schooled her features to remain impassive.

"You don't seem revolted?" the detective asked with faux surprise. "Normally people find an image like this nauseating."

Sookie met his accusing gaze before she shrugged. "I just finished a marathon of Walking Dead, Detective. I can handle gore."

He cackled, tapping his belly for theatrics. "I must admit you don't fit the bill of a cold-blooded murderer, but, hell, if Ted Bundy can fake a stutter, everything's possible, eh?"

"Detective," Luna said with a cautioning tsk.

He flicked his dark eyes from Sookie to Luna before he leaned back and fiddled with his diagonal striped black tie.

"So. Am I getting warm, Miss Stackhouse?"

"Your logic is flawed, Detective. Even you could admit that." Sookie straightened her back and pushed the photo away from her. "If I were to kill a man, why would I dump his body near my workplace? And why would I crucify myself by leaving all those evidence behind?"

Both investigators went silent.

"I didn't kill anybody," Sookie gritted out, pushing her palms against the table. "So instead of coming down on me like a load of bricks why don't you do your job and find out who really did."

All the pieces had finally clicked together, forming a vivid picture. Someone used a burner phone to call Jason at the North and lured him to the strip club - someone who knew exactly where her brother would be. Her knife that she was certain was in the backseat of her car had been the weapon used to murder Longshadow. And the body that was supposed to be reduced to ashes in an abandoned warehouse was found in the dumpster.

She knew who was framing her.

_Clancy._

* * *

**E/S**

"I smell a fucking rat," Eric hissed as he grabbed the back of his neck, clasping his fingers together.

Roman exchanged a wary look with Batanya, a tall Asian woman with a square jawline and deep-set eyes, who was one of the Viking's guards. She had been a part of Eric's security detail for the past four years and although Roman usually accompanied Eric alone, she was called in to go with them to Macau because of her special set of skills in extracting information. A talent she had acquired from her years of working as a spy in Syria. They picked her up in LAX that morning before they flew halfway across the globe.

"There were only four other people who knew we were coming here," Roman started to reason while he ticked off each members of the inner circle. Pam, Jake, Clancy… _Shit!_

Retrieving his phone from his pocket, Roman started dialing the number of the control room at the North.

"It's Clancy," Roman blurted, holding out the phone between him and the Viking.

"We know," Sam answered curtly. "Jake's already on a manhunt. He issued an all point bulletin on the son of a bitch. I looked through his file. He's a ghost. The real Clancy Burgess had died two years ago in Iraq. The reason it didn't pop up in our background check was because someone went through great lengths to cover his identity and erased the record of Clancy Burgess's death. I only managed to identify him when I asked my guy in Quantico to run face recognition."

Eric kept his face stoic as he stared at Roman who was nervously rubbing his temple. "Keep us informed," Roman piped curtly. Brevity was his attempt to save face. He was the one who hired Clancy. He would be the one taking the hit should this end badly for Sookie.

"There's more," Sam rushed before Roman could hit the red End Call button. "I did a little more digging. Clancy, or whoever the fuck he is, had an account in Philadelphia with two million euros. It was made a couple of days ago through a number of untraceable wire transfers that bounced from shadow accounts from Switzerland to the Middle East. I managed to get a lock on the principal account - the deposit was made from Monaco. By one C. Warlow."

Roman locked eyes with the Viking. Princess Caroline. The wounded mother, who was missing her son, was the one behind the masterplan to frame Sookie. Eric threw Michael behind bars so she arranged for Sookie to suffer the same fate.

Fucking bitch.

The air grew thick as Eric kept his gaze fixed on Roman, deliberating if the Grecian sentry had already outlived his purpose. Then like the proverbial bell that saved Roman, the plane door made an annoying hiss as it yawned open.

The Viking tipped his head to the door and saw a middle aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and groomed mustache wearing light blue bowling shirt and black slacks.

Felipe De Castro.

"Tony called. He told me about Sookie," Felipe explained, holding out his palms a sign of surrender as he approached Eric. "There's something you need to know."

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie held out her hands above her, running her fingers over the bruise that formed a ring around her wrist as a result of being handcuffed for a long time. The bunk bed she was lying on creaked as she turned to lie on her side, facing the chipped wall of her cell.

Pam and Luna were asked to leave as soon as the cross examination was done. Detective Lochlan promised to notify them when the prosecution was ready. Sookie didn't get to speak with Pam again before she was steered inside the holding area.

They would have to find her accomplice, Sookie had overheard Neave and Lochlan agreed through the partitioned cubicle in the booking area when she was being escorted to the cell. It appeared that they were under strict orders from Sheriff Burnham to grill Eric Northman's girlfriend to a toast. Burnham, as Sookie discovered, was primed to go up against the current mayor in the next election but with Eric Northman backing up Cataliades, Burnham knew he had no chance of winning.

But if Burnham could get Sookie incarcerated, Cataliades's reputation would be compromised. And even if Cataliades survived the bad publicity, if the incumbent mayor let Sookie get the capital punishment, he might as well hang himself in his office before Eric could do it to him himself. In some sick and twisted way, Sookie found comfort in that thought.

She tried to get some sleep but every now and then she would wake up with a stifled scream as her mind drifted off to Eric and Jason. She would kill for any news about them. She almost laughed at the notion. If Detective Lochlan could hear her thoughts it would surely make his day. God, she must be starting to lose her mind.

A distinct clicking noise from a set of keys colliding with each other halted Sookie's erratic musings. It was followed by faint rumbling voices across the hallway. She didn't bother turning around as she fixed her gaze on the very detailed artwork of someone's Johnson on the wall. It didn't hold a torch on her Viking's 'sword', she thought in amusement.

"Hey, Shawshank, unless you're planning to dig yourself out through a tunnel of shit I suggest you get your sweet ass here so we can get you out of that atrocious jumpsuit," a female voice called out.

Sookie's lips tugged at the side when she recognized the voice.

Pam.

Turning her head slowly to the iron bars, she spied the leggy blonde who was staring at her with her hand on her hips while her manicured nails drummed against one of the rusty bars.

Without wasting another second she hopped off the bed and flung herself at her snarky friend.

"H-How?"

Pam smirked. "Did you really think I'd let you become someone else's bitch?"

The leggy blonde began filling her in with the development in the past 18 hours. Apparently, the Medical Examiner's report came in and revealed that Longshadow's cause of death wasn't from the neck wound but from a heart failure because of a high dose of barbiturate in his system. A waitress from Stocks and Bonds came forward and testified against Clancy who had bribed her to spike Longshadow and Jason's drinks when Jason went to the bar earlier that evening to meet with Longshadow. The barmaid would face 10 to 20 years for accessory to murder.

Before Sookie could react for dragging Jason into the case, Pam stressed that it was Jason's idea. Her brother had woken up and was lucid enough to give his testimony. He was brought in St. Mary's hospital for further tests.

Clancy had covered his tracks efficiently but he made a fatal error when he underestimated Sam's ingenuity. The Hawk managed to get a list of all of Clancy's aliases. Although Clancy had paid with cash with all his transactions he was stupid to use one of his old aliases: Jack Ryan. It seemed that Clancy became too attached with Tom Clancy the author who used the same name for his protagonist in a few of his novels. The second Clancy signed Jack Ryan to book a room at one of the seedy motels down at the Seventh street, the ring of bull's eye in his head grew wide.

Jake wanted to take matters in his own hand but Eric ordered him to turn Clancy over to the authorities to clear Sookie's name. It didn't take much convincing for Clancy to agree to sign a confession. The bastard would rather spend a lifetime in jail – or take the easy way out with a lethal injection – than face a very pissed off Viking.

"Eric's plane is set to land in McCarran in an hour. Do you want to go back to the North to change or see your brother first?" Pam asked as soon as they were out of the precint and inside the comfort of her car. Sookie spied her tote bag in the backseat and thanked Pam for bringing it.

"Can I call him?" Sookie asked.

Pam went silent as she trained her gaze at the windshield. There was an underlying uneasiness in her.

"He went off the grid after their plane took off. Roman's the one giving me update on his itinerary. Don't worry you'll have your overdue lovers' quarrel when we pick him up. So, why don't we get your stupid brother first?"

Sookie bit her lip before she nodded. She didn't want to fight. Not anymore. All she wanted was for Eric to come back to her.

* * *

**E/S**

For almost a decade he let Russell Edgington own him. He was never allowed to complain. Never allowed to come home. Never allowed to sit in on his clandestine meetings. He wasn't ready for the big league, Russell would always tell him. But he knew better. Russell didn't trust him. Trust was something he had to earn.

So he did everything to earn it. For ten goddamned years he stayed silent. His opinions were reduced to succinct nods. He would move from one place to another without question. From Berlin to Monte Carlo to Shanghai and now to Macau. He wasn't allowed to check on _them_. Victor would constantly remind him not to do anything foolish that would endanger them. It was the price he had to pay for their freedom. They had the resources to disappear, Victor had assured him time and time again. Fifty million dollars worth of resources.

He had sacrificed his freedom for theirs. That was the deal he made with the devil. And for a long time Russell honored his word like a gentleman. But he should know the devil was a gentleman.

He wasn't allowed to talk so all he did was listen. He became good at it, grasping at straws with little bits of information. He discovered secrets - secrets he wasn't supposed to find out. Enough to put Russell Edgington behind bars or, better yet, six-feet-under. But he didn't have balls to go through with it. He couldn't take him down. He was scared to even try. So he stuck to his initial plan to wait Russell out. No one could live forever. One day Russell would kick the bucket or someone with bigger balls would put a bullet between his eyes. Then he would be free. Free to have the life he wanted. Give _them_ the life they deserved.

However, with Victor's sudden disappearance, he was shoved in the dark again. His link to them vanished along with Victor Madden.

And then came the summon.

"Caroline wants his son back. She has the siblings and she's going to use them as bargaining chip with Northman. We have to get to them before the bitch makes the call. If what I gathered were true, Eric will wage a war against the Warlows for Susannah." Russell heaved a tired sigh. "We can't have that. We already suffered a major loss when Northman had Michael incarcerated. We'll be caught in the crossfire and our business will be reduced to naught. We'll fly to Las Vegas immediately. You have to convince Susannah to work for us or we'll have a fucking disaster in our hands."

All he did was nod.

It was time to come home.

* * *

**E/S**

"Jase!" Sookie exclaimed throwing herself at her brother who was staggering across the parking lot of the St. Mary's hospital with his arm draped around Michele.

Jason almost fell backward at the sudden impact. "Geez Sook! Not so hard!" he blurted but the smile that crept at the side of his lips told Sookie that he didn't really mind.

Sookie cupped the side of his face before she pulled away and slapped his cheek. "Damn you, Jason! Don't you ever do that to me again!" she squealed, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What the hell were you thinkin' meeting with Longshadow?"

"Are we really gonna do this now? Here... in front of all these people?" Jason whisper-hissed, his gaze flickering to Pam and Jake who were standing behind Sookie watching with amused expressions. If Jason weren't so pale he would have blushed a furious red from sheer embarrassment of being called out by his baby sister. "Y'know my head still hurts fro -"

He wasn't able to finish his sentence as he looked over Sookie's shoulder and caught a glimpse of a man who was marching toward him. Toward them. His jaw slackened and his eyes widened. His already pale complexion went even paler and his hand that was rubbing his cheek fell limp to his side.

The rest of his company, wearing the same baffled expressions, followed Jason's gaze with furrowed brows. It was Jake who reacted first, in a quick maneuver, he ran and caught the man's wrist and twisted it behind his back forcing the man to jerk his body outward and press against Jake's. Four men in plain white polo shirts and black slacks came out of two parked cars across them. They rushed to the man's direction, gripping their concealed guns under their tucked out shirts.

"Stay back!" Jake whisper-yelled, twisting around to cover Sookie while taking a few steps back to close his gap with the Stackhouses. "Who the fuck are you?" he hissed, pressing his head at the back of the man's head.

It was past eight in the evening and there were only a few people in the hospital's lot. Some of them darted curious glances at the commotion but only a couple had the presence of mind to run back to the infirmary to alert the guards.

Sookie, who looked as though she had seen a ghost, circled around Jake to get a good look at the newcomer. Her lips parted as she let out a staccato gasp when she finally recognized the man.

"Let him go, Jake." Her voice was barely audible even amid the muted standoff.

"Do you know this man?" Pam asked, grabbing Sookie's shoulder in an effort to tear the Southerner's gaze away from the intruder.

Sookie blinked. And just like that the tears that were threatening to fall all day fell in torrents.

She didn't bother to brush them off her face as she took a step closer to the man who was staring at her with unreadable eyes.

Sookie choked back a sob then took another step. "He's our dad."

* * *

**E/S**

_Sixteen hours ago…_

"_How is that possible?" Eric snarled as he sprung from his chair and grabbed Felipe by the collar. _

_Roman and Batanya also leaped out of the leather couch beside the Viking but no one was brave enough to pry Eric off Felipe. The private jet had turned into a nuclear silo the moment they had found out about Sookie's arrest. Even Batanya, a very vocal atheist, had said a prayer to the God she didn't believe in to survive the 15-hour flight back to Nevada. _

_Felipe fought to break free from the Viking's grasp, his eyes bulging like they were about to pop out of their sockets._

_Eric loosened his grip on the Spaniard's neck but didn't take his hands off from his collar. Felipe's lung swelled with air as he unleashed a series of hacking cough. Eric continued to stare at the Spaniard dead in the eyes, waiting for response. _

_Felipe's coughing ceased as he held onto Eric's arms. "Victor told me the last time I saw him in Sabaneta before I flew out of Venezuela. I didn't believe him. I thought it was a dead man's cry of desperation," Felipe said haltingly in a scratched voice. _

_Eric let go of the Spaniard and sank back in his seat. His glare could still burn holes into Felipe. _

"_When Tony told me you had the Scarface I knew I had to find out if Victor's telling me the truth. That's the reason I'm here. To follow Russell," Felipe resumed his explanation. "I saw him, Eric. I saw Corbett get on the plane with Russell today. And now they're on their way to Las Vegas. They're going to get her. They're going to get Sookie."_

"_Why would Russell keep Sookie's father alive?" it was Roman who asked the 50-million-dollar question. _

_Felipe didn't whisk his head to look at the Grecian sentry. His eyes remained locked with Eric's. "The same reason he gave him the Scarface. Because Corbett Stackhouse is Russell Edgington's son."_

_Eric's mind backflipped and spun. This was not supposed to happen. This wasn't the plan. He had everything mapped out down to the last detail. But his father was right all along - even the best laid plans could fall apart in a blink of an eye. All it needed was the element of surprise._

* * *

**E/S**

Eric's feet felt like they were made of cold hard stone as he dragged them on his way out of the plane that had been his refuge for more than 32 hours. He wanted to run but his legs wouldn't let him. Somehow they knew he had nowhere else to go.

He saw Pam standing stiffly beside the silver BMW. Even from a distance he could tell when she was forcing a smile.

He could see Jake and Sam watching him a few meters from Pam. They were all here. Except for _her_.

All it took was Pam's virtually imperceptible shake of head to tell him that _she_ was gone. He was too late.

He gripped the spine of the plane's entryway and looked straight ahead.

From his elevated position he could see the vibrant lights that littered the dark streets of Las Vegas. The lights were like fireworks, winking at him from a distance. Now he had another thing in common with Sookie: _he, too, was now disgusted by the sight of fireworks_.

Bright and enticing as the lights were Eric could no longer see colors. How could he when his world was falling into black and white.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric. **

**You hate me, I know. Next chapter has some E/S interaction, I swear on ASkars.**


	43. Chapter 43

It was all coming back to her.

Jason was running, screaming her name. His short blonde hair was sticking to his clammy forehead.

The plump Maxine Fortenberry in her Sunday dress and floral apron, cheeks ruddied with sheer indignation, was yelling profanities at Jason, scolding him for leaving a trail of mud on her freshly waxed floor.

The panting Hoyt scampering after Jason with a face white as a sheet asking his mother to leave his friend alone.

If Sookie focused hard enough she would be able to remember the mouth-watering scent of the hickory-flavored pork and the smoked brisket from the grill as they sizzled and popped. She would feel the sting of the speck of grease that landed on her arm when she flipped the meat just as her brother reached her at the Fortenberry's backyard.

'_Dad ain't comin' home, Sook,'_ were his exact words to her.

She couldn't remember anything he said after that. The steel tong she was holding fell on her foot as she ran back to the farmhouse. Back to where her grandmother was, to beg the pale old woman to tell her it wasn't true. She could hear Jason running after her, calling her name, asking her to slow down. _Please_, he pleaded. But she just kept running until she reached their front porch.

It was all coming back to her now.

And she could recall every little detail as she stared at the man who resembled her dead father. It wasn't him, she thought over and over. It couldn't be him. They had buried him in the cemetery beside their grandfather's tomb. His body was bloated beyond recognition when they sent him to Louisiana in a wooden box. He was Las Vegas's pine-box secret.

The man stared at her with pensive eyes then opened his mouth and the first word to come out was, _'Cheekie'_.

Cheekie. She almost sighed. That was what her dead father used to call her for as long as she could remember. Might be because of her high cheekbones or it might just be because she could be so cocky and, yes, cheeky at times.

Pinching her eyes shut she tried to push all the memories back in her vault. She didn't want to remember.

Remembering would only make her feel the loss.

She was done feeling. She was done mourning.

"Cheekie," the man murmured one more time, trying to summon her back to the present. She wished he would stop calling her that. He _wasn't_ her father.

Jason was beside her in an instant, gaping at the man with sandy blonde hair and eyes that were the same shade as theirs. Her brother was trembling, rendered speechless when the man called him _'Jase'_ in a deep voice that sent goosebumps all over her arms.

"Dad?" Jason was the first to respond, blinking rapidly as he took cautious steps toward the man who was still held in place by Jake's strong grip.

"Yes, Jase," the man said, smiling a little and that simple gesture revealed a small dimple on his right cheek, "it's me."

The men in black and white uniform released their grips on their firearms under their shirts and formed a half circle behind Sookie and Jason.

"Stand down," the man in an expensive looking tailored black slacks and crisp gray buttoned down shirt barked at his company. He held his palm out to them and like trained dogs they backed away. He couldn't be her father, Sookie stressed with more resolve. Her dad didn't have pricey clothes. He had promotional t-shirts from Dole, the ones that were handed out in Walmart every Christmas, and tattered jeans before torn denim pants were cool. Most of all, her soft-spoken, mild-mannered father wouldn't order anyone around like servants.

With a simple nod, Pam ordered Rodney and three more guards lurking behind the car that was parked a few paces from them to ease up as well. Their guns were already drawn, ready to make a move at the first sign of trouble.

The man's warm brown eyes landed on her. She noticed the deep crease on his forehead and the crinkles that were like cat's whiskers at the side of his eyes. Her dead father didn't have age lines. Nor did he have the nasty scar under his left ear that ran down to the side of his mouth. He only had freckles around his nose that spread all the way to his cheeks. Sookie and Jason used to count them when they were young. Sixty-three was their last tally.

That was ten years ago. The man, who was claiming to be their father, had more bronze spots on his face.

Jason cursed under his breath before his hand flew to his face and brushed the tears that were pooling at the rim of his eyes with the back of his hand. In two long strides he closed the gap between him and the man with the scar. Flinging his arms around the man's neck, Jason wept. His shoulders quaked uncontrollably and the shameless display of affection had taken everyone by surprise.

Almost everyone.

Not Sookie. She didn't make a sound or shift her weight from one foot to the other like the rest of her company. She remained locked in her spot like a statue and watched her big brother bawl like freaking baby, burying his face in the crook of the man's neck. Jake's grip on the man's wrist slackened as he backed away a few steps, just enough to give Jason and the man their personal space.

Sookie didn't know how many minutes had gone by. She wished Jason would hurry up so they could leave the hospital and head back to the North. She wanted to grab a shower and scrub the prison grime off her before Eric arrived.

"Cheekie?" The man raised his chin and turned his attention back to her. He extended one of his hands to her, while his other patted Jason's back.

Meeting the man's beseeching eyes, she shook her head gently.

"Sook?" Jason twisted his head and faced her. "What the hell? Dad's here!"

She kept shaking her head, taking half a step back.

Jason furrowed his brows and dashed to his sister. "Sookie?" he asked as he grabbed both her arms and shook her.

"We have to go, Jase. I need to go back to the North. Eric will be landing soon," she said in an impatient tone.

"Sook… damn fuck it! What's wrong with you?" Jason went from confused into incensed in a matter of seconds, drilling his sister with a look as though Sookie had truly lost her marbles.

The man quickly marched to the siblings and put a hand on Jason's shoulder. "It's okay, Jase. She's in shock."

Sookie turned her head sharply at the man who was touching her brother and he recoiled from the heat of her glare. Taking another step back, she broke free from her brother's grasp and whisked around to bolt toward the silver BMW that would take her back to the North. To Eric.

She heard footsteps behind her, pounding against the concrete. She didn't want to know who would reach her first. She didn't really care.

"Cheekie, please," the man begged.

Why was he the one who seemed so close? Where were all the people around her? Had they deserted her? It wasn't surprising. Everyone had left her. One by one they would all leave her.

Someone caught her wrist and the calloused hand that touched her skin was painfully familiar.

Spinning on her heel, she yanked her hand back. "Leave me alone!" she snarled.

"Cheekie, please… let me explain." His cheeks were damp as they glistened against the glimmer of the lamp posts that dotted the parking lot. It disarmed her for a fleeting moment. But Sookie refused to be swayed by his tears. They meant nothing to her.

"There's nothing to explain," she spat. "You're dead. You've been dead for a very long time. Stay that way."

The man dropped his gaze to his feet as his lower lip quivered. Her words had stung him. Deeply. Irrevocably. Good, she thought, she wanted to hurt him. If only she could make him feel even an ounce of pain he had caused her.

His shoulders sagged as though he had been carrying something so unspeakably heavy and it was the first time that he had felt its weight.

"I know you're angry. Rightfully so. But you have to know why I did it, Cheekie -"

"Stop saying that name! You're not my dad!" she exploded, her hands balling into fists at her sides, itching to beat at the chest of the man pretending to be her dead father. "My dad died years ago. You're not my dad," she repeated, shaking her head furiously. "My dad would never leave us the way you did. He wouldn't be so cruel as to let his mother die thinking she no longer had a son. He wouldn't leave his children and let them grieve for him the way you did!" She jabbed her finger at his chest piercing him with unblinking eyes.

"You are _not_ my dad," she breathed out one last time before her knees gave out and she sank to the ground.

Clutching the front of her dress, she bowed her head and wept. She didn't care that there were people gawking at her. People who felt for her, sympathized with her, baffled at her rejection of her father that she had yearned for for so long, marveled at how a once proud woman had been taken down a peg.

She didn't care. They could stare all they want.

"Sookie…" the man kneeled beside her. She could feel him stirring as though he was waiting for her to push him away. Then without another pause he wrapped his long weary arms around her and rocked her back and forth.

She tried to struggle but she didn't have the strength anymore. She could feel the jagged line of his scar when he pressed his cheek to hers.

"How could you?" she breathed. "How could you do that to us?"

"I wanted to come home…" His breath hitched as he strangled a sob. She couldn't remember the last time she had heard him cry. It had been too long. His eyes drifted close as he inhaled the scent of his daughter. To embed the memory of his grown up Sookie and not the toothy and mousy little Cheekie who used to climb trees and race her brother across the yard.

He wanted to remember what it felt to be home.

* * *

**E/S**

_Sixteen hours ago…_

"Finally got word from my contact in the Bureau," Sam reported through the other line when Eric called him after their plane had taken off from Macau airport. "I sent them a copy of the file that the sheriff gave Pam before they left Bon Temps. The shotgun didn't belong to Earl Stackhouse. It was registered to a Fintan Brigant, a small-time businessman from Tennessee. The fingerprints lifted from the barrel were also Fintan's. But here's the catch, aside from the firearm registration and a copy of his company's billing address, there was no other record that Fintan Brigant ever existed anywhere in the United States. He was only a name."

Eric reached for the glass of golden liquid from the polished table in front of him. The quest to find Earl Stackhouse's murderer was moot. He knew who did it. Or at least the man behind it.

"It's Edgington. We just don't have the evidence to pin it on him."

It all made perfect sense. The photo of the young Adele along with two men Eric saw in the farmhouse. The carving on the shotgun's grip that Jason thought belonged to Earl.

_To Adele, my divining rod. – E._

The initial 'E' wasn't for Earl, it was for Edgington. It was his love letter to Adele.

* * *

_Russell, the youngest of Elrond and Lilith Edgington's three sons, was the axiomatic black sheep. A delinquent since a young boy, he formed an unlikely friendship with the stocky and quick-witted Earl Stackhouse, an orphan whose parents had died from a massive fire in one of the Edgington's meat-packing plants. The Edgingtons took pity on the boy and hired him as a gardener. _

_Russell and Earl became inseparable. They were at the peak of their puberty when they met Adele Hale, the Southern Belle from a middle-class family who lived four houses from the Edgington's estate. _

_But Adele was nothing like a Southern Belle. She was gutsy and fearless. She could shut two smug boys up with a glare and break off a brawl with a slingshot. (Thus the nickname dowsing rod that resembled the Y-shaped wood of the bean shooter as her weapon of choice.)_

_That was how she caught Russell Edgington's attention. By shooting a pebble at him from ten feet away when he was trying to beat the crap out of a stuttering lad who had the misfortune of tripping over Russell's outstretched leg. _

_Adele didn't care for bullies and Russell was the meanest of them all. What started as a plot to get back at the girl who humiliated him in front of his peers had turned into a blossoming romance. _

_Russell was madly in love with Adele by the time they finished high school. _

_What Russell didn't know was while he was falling for her, so did his friend. _

_Then tragedy struck. Russell's eldest brother died from brain aneurysm while the other one came out of the proverbial closet. Elrond, enraged, mortified and desperate for an heir, forced Russell to take the helm of the family business. The meat business was only a small portion of the Edgington Industries. The large part was gambling. Riverboat casino was flourishing in Mississippi but Russell refused to be sucked in the tedious world of gaming. He knew Adele wouldn't like it. _

_But Elrond was not taking no for an answer. He found out about Russell's intention to marry Adele after college. Elrond couldn't let a simpleton drag his son into mediocrity so he tried buying off the Hales. Uncovering his father's distasteful action, Russell asked Adele to elope. _

_Having eyes and ears everywhere, Elrond intercepted his son's preposterous plan and decided to drive the Hales out of Mississippi. _

_Earl, who was still holding a torch for Adele, offered to help her and her parents leave town. Russell found out about Earl's proposal and thought of it as betrayal. In a jealous rage Russell had ordered two of their guards to teach Earl not to fuck with him. _

_Having been beaten to an inch of his life, Earl fled to the Hales and told Adele what had happened. Adele, __having faith on Russell,_ did not believe him at first. But after much prodding from her horrified parents, she decided to confront him. The young Edgington, to his credit, did not deny any of it. 

'_I do not tolerate traitors, especially those who try to take what is mine,' he had told her._

_That was when Adele saw what a possessive monster Russell was. As soon as Earl was able to travel they hatched up an escape plan and left Mississippi. Earl, along with the Hales, went to Dallas and hid. When Adele's parents died two years later, Earl took Adele to Louisiana where his great grandfather owned a piece of land._

_It took Russell five years before he finally found Adele in Bon Temps. Although when he finally made it to the farmhouse, nothing had prepared him for what he saw: A blooming Adele, beaming and giggling at his traitorous friend with a blonde boy sleeping on her lap at the porch swing. _

_Russell was livid. But he was nothing but patient. No one could make a fool out of an Edgington. He went back to Mississippi with a bruised ego and a broken heart. _

_Slowly but surely Russell helped his father fortify their empire. His revenge could wait. After four more years, the Edgington Industries became a formidable force in the South - that was when he decided to up the ante and dabble into Las Vegas. _

_But before he could leave the South, he had a score to settle. _

_Killing Earl Stackhouse was easy. Facing his former lover, now, that was a different story. _

_Three days after he buried two bullets in Earl Stackhouse's chest, he went to see her. It was after Earl's burial and she was the last to leave the cemetery. He was counting on that. It even seemed as though she was expecting him. Waiting patiently inside his blue Cadillac, Russell watched Adele approach his car. He rolled down the window but before he could even smirk, she held out a hand and said, "I know you did it, Russ."_

_Adele would know, of course, that was the whole point of the message he etched on the barrel. It was like giving Adele the middle finger. _

_They locked eyes and it was as if they had reached an understanding. The girl with the slingshot had run out of pebbles. _

_After what seemed like hours, Adele turned around and walked away. She had kept her silence. Adele was brave but she also knew how to pick her battles. As much as she had grown to love Earl, she knew she couldn't win against the Edgingtons. Plus, she had a son to protect. Shield from his own father. _

_With the knowledge that Adele was hurting as much, if not more, as he did, Russell left the South for the desert. _

* * *

**E/S**

"You're lying!" Sookie bellowed, her whole body shaking with rage. "Isn't it enough that you left us? You had to make up lies about Gran, too? Nothing is sacred to you!"

Corbett blinked hard, his hand reaching out to her. "I wish I was lying. God, I wish it wasn't true, Cheekie…"

She stepped back as he inched forward. "Is that what he told you?" she snapped, her eyes narrowing into slits. Jason ran to her side, wrapping his arms around her middle to stop her from retreating. He only heard the last part of their conversation. And he knew he had to interfere.

Corbett's chest puffed and trembled as he choked back another sob.

A bitter, hollow chuckle escaped her. "I knew you were gullible, but this is just plain stupid."

"Sookie!" Jason exclaimed in warning, whisking her around with brute force "You're bein' a fucking bitch."

Corbett cringed at the profanity.

"Am I?" Sookie turned sharply at Jason. Her eyes widened when she recognized his softened feature. "Oh god, don't you tell me you actually believe that Russell Edgington's our grandfather?"

"I don't know!" Jason blurted, grabbing the back of his head. "I just know that Dad's here and I wanna hear what he has to say."

She pressed her lips into a taut line before she turned back to the man with all the lies. "Why are you really here? Why come back? Why now?" she asked suspiciously. "Don't say because you missed us, because I'd be damned insulted for you to take this long to realize that."

* * *

**E/S**

_Sixteen hours ago…_

"When Russell's only son died from the first attempt on his life after he got his hands on the Scarface and the Bugsy, he became obsessed with spawning a new heir. He started collecting mistresses, afraid that his name would die with him," Felipe said, finally allowing himself to relax when Eric darted his eyes off him to study the Scarface chip that he retrieved from his jacket pocket.

"Only Russell never had another child," observed Roman, who peeled himself from the long couch to stand at the aisle so he could stand behind Eric's seat in the small aircraft.

Felipe pressed his lips together as he bobbed his head. "Do you remember the second assassination attempt on Russell? The long-range shooter after the Mosley-Dela Hoya fight in Staples? He barely dodged that one. His publicist and I made up a press statement that his injuries weren't fatal. The bullet went through and through, if I remember correctly. But it wasn't, it damaged one of his kidneys and he had to undergo a series of intensive surgeries just to stay alive. He managed to cheat death for the second time but it came with a hefty price. He became sterile."

If it were a different time, everyone from Eric to Roman would have burst into a fit of cackles at that piece of information. Instead there was only an awkward interlude before Felipe could resume telling the story.

"After wife number three left him, he asked me to check on Adele. She never left Bon Temps. Even though Russell was in Las Vegas, he still kept tabs on her. I met Corbett shortly after his wife died. He had Adele's hair and lips but his eyes and nose were unmistakably Russell's. I kept my observations to myself to keep Adele and Corbett safe. But I should have known that Russell always has a second pair of eyes that were solely for her," Felipe added, watching Eric with a guarded expression as the Viking started rolling the Scarface along his knuckles.

Felipe gulped before he continued. "The first time I met Adele I pretended to be interested into buying her house. It was also the first time I saw her. Sookie."

Eric's hand quivered and the chip that was wedged in the space between his middle- and ring-finger fell on the carpeted floor and began wheeling to the aisle. Batanya lunged to seize it before it reached the rear of the plane.

The Viking clenched his jaw, keeping his head low, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

"She was five or six years old at that time, I think." Felipe's lips tugged at the side. "She was doing cartwheels across the lawn and Adele yelled at her to stop because she was getting grass stains all over her dress. She flipped and stumbled before she turned to Adele with the ridiculous look on her face because her grandmother just called her by her full name." He chuckled. "It was -"

"Enough," Eric gritted. He didn't raise his voice but the underlying threat in his tone was more than sufficient to silence the Spaniard. "It's irrelevant."

He knew what Felipe was trying to do. He was giving Eric a glimpse of an unjaded Sookie. Unscarred. But all Felipe was doing was making Eric's heart clench painfully just by saying her name. He didn't want an innocent, sweet Sookie. He wanted _his_ Sookie.

"I want to know how my father got the chip from Corbett."

"He bought it," Felipe replied. "Victor said it was Bill who arranged the meeting. Your father bought the chip for 20 mil. Victor even tried to bribe me with it. He told me that Corbett gave it to him the night Russell ordered his exile to Berlin. Corbett, apparently, had no idea that the money never made it to Louisiana. Victor then asked his skeevy bookie, Longshadow, to take care of the Stackhouses so they wouldn't try to find out what really happened to Corbett. They thought what better way to keep the Stackhouses from snooping around than to give them something else to worry about."

A dark cloud passed over Eric's features. For the nth time he cursed Corbett Stackhouse, who was a damned fool for trusting his children's fate to the wrong man. He wished Victor Madden would survive the hells of Sabaneta. He wanted to be the one to tear him into pieces. He wanted to see the look on the motherfucker's face as he stabbed him 20 times on the chest – one for each million he had stolen from Sookie.

Nostrils flaring he looked down on the phone on his lap. He reached for the device and pressed number one on the speed dial. Sookie's face popped up on the screen. She was biting her lower lip because she couldn't stop laughing while he was taking her photo. The sadness that overtook him was unnerving. _Wait for me_, he almost said out loud.

Pressing the phone to his ear, he heard it ring thrice before her voice blared like a welcome reprieve.

"Hey hi, this is Sookie," she chirped through the other line with her unmissable twang. She had insisted on doing her own recording rather than heeding Eric's advice to use the automated one. She wanted it to be personal, she stressed. And he had never been so glad that she was so damn stubborn. "I can't answer your call right now. Leave a message after the beep and I'll give you a holler as soon as I can."

He couldn't help but sigh as he waited for the tinny beep. Then something unexpected happened. Instead of the sharp shrill tone, her lilting voice came again.

"Eric, if it's you... don't bother leaving a message. I won't hear any of it." His lips parted as a gust of air escaped him. She had made a specific message knowing all too well that he'd call. "Oh, and just so you know… I will nail your ass for leaving. Count on that, Viking."

Then the annoying beep sounded.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie stared at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. It was a 12-digit bank account under the name Bert Hale at the Bank of China in Shanghai. Corbett had pressed it into her palm before he leaned in so only Jason and Sookie could hear him.

"Run. Call the bank and they will wire you the money. It has five hundred thousand yuan in it. It's not much but it's enough to get you far." He clamped a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Bring your wife with you."

"Wh-What are you doin'?" Jason stammered.

"What I should have done ten years ago. I should never have trusted Victor. I'm sorry." He looked at Sookie who was still staring at the sheet of paper. "I hope you can forgive me, Cheekie. I only wanted to protect you both, the way Momma tried to protect me from him."

Corbett grabbed the back of Jason's head and pulled his face down before he kissed his son's temple. "I'm proud of you, Jase."

Sookie didn't look up, keeping her chin down. Corbett touched her cheek and the moment his finger grazed her face she flinched. He didn't budge, though. He tucked a wisp of stray hair behind her ear before he planted a chaste kiss on top of her head. He didn't wait for her flinch from the contact as he jogged back to opposite side of the parking lot and got inside a black heavily-tinted SUV.

Jason yelled, "Dad!"

Sookie didn't call out for him. Instead she dashed inside the silver BMW and locked herself in. She wouldn't look back. She had watched him leave them once. She wouldn't do it again. But the tears that streamed down her cheeks were relentless as they taunted her and asked her how she could be so cold, too unforgiving to meet her father's pleading gaze.

Grabbing onto the dashboard, she started to sob. She didn't even hear the tapping on the window before her car door flew open.

"You're letting him leave!?" Jason growled as he bent down to look at her.

Wiping her tears, she cocked her head at him with a defiant glare. "You heard him. He's going back to him."

"Go where? Back to Russell Edgington?" Jason was aghast, the vein on his neck was throbbing against the thin film of skin. "You know what that Edgington guy's capable of. He's a monster and you're letting Dad face him alone!?"

Sookie hopped out of the car as Pam, Jake and Michele made their way toward them.

"He made his choice, Jase. He chose to leave us," she gritted.

"No." Jason shook his head. "Not leave us. Protect us. Weren't you listening? Or can't you hear him from your high horse?"

"Don't be naïve, Jason. The only reason he came back is because Russell wants him to get us. To use us. Use me against Eric." She swallowed hard. "I'm not letting that happen. Dad made his choice, now I'm making mine. And I choose Eric."

Jason sagged backward, blinking his eyes into focus.

Pam, who finally reached the Stackhouses, opened the door of the backseat. "This might sound callous of me but I suggest we continue this discussion back at the North before these people start taking videos of you two."

Jason darted a glance at Michele before he turned to the leggy blonde beside his wife. "I'm not comin' with you." He trained his gaze on Michele who gawped at him indignantly. "I won't force you to come with me, Mitchi. You can stay with them or go back to Louisiana. It's your call."

"Jason!" Sookie yelled.

"I'm comin' with you," Michele replied, never taking her eyes off her husband.

"Don't be stupid, Jason!" Sookie warned, marching to her sibling.

"Y'know, callin' us all stupid doesn't make you smart, Sookie." He entwined his fingers with Michele as she approached him. "Remember how we always say we wish we had a chance to save him. This is our chance. I lost him once, Sook, I'm not gonna lose him again. You made your choice. This is ours." He raised his chin in Pam's direction. "Be sure to thank Eric for me. I wish someday I can return his kindness."

Sookie inched forward. "Think about your child, Jason," she tried to reason.

"I _am_ thinkin' about my kid," he cried out. "I want him to have a dad who isn't scared to stand by his family."

"So you're gonna leave me?" Sookie asked in disbelief.

Jason shook his head as he bit his lip so hard it made his face crumple into a grimace. "I may be the one walkin' away, Sook, but it's you who turned your back on us." He stabbed his finger in the air and pointed it at his sibling before he started turning on his heel.

"Y'know the sad thing about this Sook? Between the two of us, I always thought you'd be the one who won't give up on him."

"Jason!" Sookie yelled after him and she felt Pam's hand clamping around her arm, stopping her from running toward her brother.

She saw Jason and Michele cross the lot and hail a cab. They were going to Mandalay Bay where Corbett said Russell would be waiting for him.

"We'll get him back, Sookie," Pam whispered as Sookie buried her face in her palms.

Lifting her gaze, she turned to Pam with stone-cold eyes. Her murderous glare was in contrast with her swollen face from all the crying. "_I'll_ get them back. It's time I stop running."

* * *

**E/S**

Eric stood in front of the glass windows of his palatial office in the North, staring at the skyline of Las Vegas.

"I really thought she'd stay." Pam walked behind him, hoping to stir any kind of reaction from the Viking.

He had not spoken a single word to any of them when he arrived in McCarran. The short ride back to the North seemed painstakingly long with Pam trying to engage him into a conversation by giving him update on their efforts to learn Sookie's whereabouts after the Southerner had fled the hospital to follow her father and brother to the Mandalay.

Sam, who was still connected to both the MGM and Mandalay surveillance cameras, had not taken a break as he tried to locate Sookie or Jason. So far, the Stackhouses remained invisible from them.

He only gave her a curt nod of recognition. She followed him when he made his way to his suite and changed the lock on his personal vault behind the painting of Manet's The Long Races of Longchamp. It was only a reproduction. The original Manet was at the Art Institute of Chicago. He didn't want the original, he wanted a decoy. If his office were to be robbed a professional thief would be able to spot the real deal with one look. His collection of Edgar Degas's works would be enough to keep them busy and his vault under the cheap reproduction would remain hidden.

With Clancy's treachery, he had to make adjustments to his privacy setting.

Pam was an idiot if she actually believed Sookie would stay. When he met Sookie he knew he was setting himself up for a world of pain. That he would be going up against the only man she would willingly go to hell for.

All along he thought Sookie was playing with a dead man's hand, when in fact it was him who was trying to win against a dead man. So it really was no contest when the dead man came back to life. It was game over, he lost.

"You should get some rest, Eric."

Silence.

"Have you eaten anything?"

Still nothing.

Pam was tired. It had been hell for her too. She wanted to yell, groan, stomp her feet like a petulant child. She wanted to cry. She also lost a friend. The pain in Sookie's eyes when she saw her father was so thick Pam could almost grasp it. She wanted to blame Eric for jetting off to Macau when she had insisted that it was a fucking stupid idea. But if he had stayed, could he possibly have stopped Sookie from running to the Edgingtons? She had to think yes.

"Eric, please…" There, she pleaded, she finally said the plebeian word that burned her throat like aged whiskey.

Eric had to say something. Anything. She couldn't read him. Not the way Sookie could. And Sookie wasn't here. She was in fuck knows where, having a family reunion with Daddy and Grandpa.

His office phone rang and he almost leaped to seize it from its cradle. "What?"

There was charged stillness in the air as he listened to the caller. "I want eyes on all exit points. I expect him to move them around."

He hung up without another word.

"When's the last time you ate or at least had a decent sleep?" Pam tried again. "Get some rest, Eric. Let Sam do his job. He'll find her. I'll send you something to eat in your suite. Please, Eric."

Eric shot her an impassive look before he gathered his phone and his jacket from his desk.

"I'll be in my suite."

Dragging his feet back to his empty room, he went straight to the bathroom. He had been wearing the same clothes for the past two days and it was starting to cling to his body. He pressed his palms against the marble tiles of the enormous shower area while he let the warm water blast against his skin. God, what a cliche he was.

His muscles were tired and every move, every turn he made elicited a thunk from his weary bones. He reached for the plush towel and wrapped it around his waist, never bothering to wipe the droplets of water that cascaded to his back from his wet tousled hair.

He heard the distinct click from the front door as someone swiped a key at the electronic lock. He was certain there were guards posted outside so he wasn't alarmed that an intruder was entering his suite. The gentle whirring sound of the wheels against the carpeted floor grated at his already sore nerves. Pam had sent room service although he didn't consent to it.

Pushing the double doors of his bedroom, he saw the room service attendant taking out silver cloches from the food warmer under the white-cloth covered trolley.

"Send it back to the kitchen," he ordered gruffly. He had no patience for pleasantries. Sookie would disapprove of his insensitive behavior but he couldn't bring himself to care. She wasn't here, was she? She left him. For the goddamned Stackhouses.

The attendant, a petite brunette in white blouse and black tight skirt, stiffened at his voice but didn't turn around to face him. After a brief moment of deliberation, she resumed with her task of setting the dishes on top of the trolley.

That was it, Eric thought. This moron had picked the wrong time to mess with him. With long deliberate strides he managed to cross the adjacent room and reach the noncompliant staff. He already had a stubborn woman he could not contain nor understand. He didn't have room for one more.

The employee was inserting the silverware inside the intricately folded table napkin when Eric caught her wrist. He leaned closer until the tip of his nose was millimeters away from her pin straight dark brown hair. "Take it away or it'll be the last meal you serve in my hotel," he hissed.

"You need to eat, sir," she mumbled almost inaudibly as her fingers glided across the silver knife on the table.

Her voice was too low for Eric to comprehend what she just said. But the movement of her fingers did not elude him. She wasn't there to serve food, she was sent to finish him off.

Grabbing her arm, he tugged her hard and slammed her back against the floor-to-ceiling glass window. With the length of his other arm pressing hard against her throat he finally got a look on the face of his assassin.

His mouth fell open.

"Sookie."

Her dark brown wig had been discarded from the struggle, letting her long blonde hair fall to her shoulders.

Releasing her arm that had been bent above her head, he drew back. His arm that had been jammed to her throat slackened as his fingers began tracing the curve of her neck all the way to the back of her head, burying them in her soft golden hair.

His mind swirled with questions.

'_Is it really you?'_ he wanted to ask. She was motionless as he searched her face.

He felt a sudden gust of cold air under his belly and he realized the towel that was covering the lower half of his body had also fallen victim from the scuffle.

He saw her lick her lips. "You dropped your towel, Mr. Northman," she breathed, her eyes darting to his nether region.

He couldn't help but smirk as he pressed his body against hers. "I could say the same about your act."

There was no more room for rebuttal as he dipped his head to capture her mouth.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric.**

**Okay, so technically I didn't lie that there'd be E/S interaction in this chapter. I'm only sorry that it's a short one and sort of a cliffie. Rest assured, there'll be lots of them in the next. Thank you for sticking around. I posted this chapter on wp, too, along with the cast members because ff was messing up the notifications last night.**

** Love, love!**


	44. Chapter 44

They never made it to the bed.

From the time he sealed his lips with hers he never wanted to come back up for air. He felt her nails digging into his shoulder, leaving half-moon crescents over his taut skin. He wished those marks would never fade.

He didn't know how he got her naked under him on the floor. His mind had shut down and he was moving out of pure instinct. Reflex urged him to grab her ankles and wrap her legs around his waist as he slowly slid inside her in one fluid thrust. He didn't know why he couldn't be bothered with protection and but was immediately troubled when she winced at the sting of his initial thrust. He kissed the corner of her mouth, murmuring apologies for being so hasty. But she would have none of it as she fisted her hand in his damp hair to deepen the kiss. She was desperate. Like she had never been before. And he loved it. So fucking loved it.

'_I missed you,'_ he wanted to say but he wasn't sure she would understand him because she kept closing her damned eyes. He wished she would stop closing her eyes and look at him as he drove in and out of her. He wanted to make sure that she wasn't just someone he imagined. Someone he managed to blur into _her_.

He wanted to silence the wild thumping of his heart or his involuntary groans because they didn't go well with her sharp gasps and strangled moans. Her muttered curses that were punctuated by his name were like an old favorite song he hadn't heard in a while.

Her eyelids fluttered before she closed them again. He had had it. He shifted his weight to his side and the muscles around his bicep leaped and tightened as he pressed his palm against the carpeted floor. He cupped her throat with his other hand and ordered her to open her eyes.

"Look at me," he growled before he traced the seam of her pouting lip with his tongue, "I want you to see who's fucking you."

He wasn't angry. He was uncontrollably desperate. It was like being rewarded and punished at the same time.

"There's no one else," she husked, plucking him out of his brooding thoughts, "only you."

That was all it took for him to come undone. He wanted to drag the moment out but Sookie was being Sookie and she was making him impatient and insatiable with only a whispered promise.

Grinding his teeth together, his knees scraped hard against the plush dark green carpet as he pushed himself deeper into her. With one, two, three persuasive thrusts he summoned her to join him as they reached their peak. She bit the back of her hand to muffle a scream and Eric swatted it off with a snarl. He wanted her to scream. He didn't give a flying fuck if anyone could hear her.

He kissed her hard on the mouth, bruising her lips, as they rode their climax together, his tongue clashed with hers in a furious battle to prolong the sensation.

Without pulling out of her he rolled on his back and grabbed her to lie on top of him.

Her breathing was harsh while his was erratic. He was trying to catch his breath like an old man who had climbed a flight of stairs. He could do better than that. Later, he thought. He would redeem himself later when he went back for seconds.

She propped her chin up on his chest and stared at him, smiling languidly, blushing like a thoroughly fucked virgin. But most of all, she looked happy and Eric repressed a goofy smile of his own as he did a mental fist pump.

"If this is how you tip room service... than I'm clearly in the wrong food business."

He laughed out loud before he rolled her on her back again and swept his lips over her oh-so smart mouth.

Wasn't it just an hour ago when he thought he had lost her for good? Now they were a mess of tangled limbs on the floor who had rug burns on their butts.

What a damned dysfunctional pair they were. But if they were a couple of degenerates, he thought, then fuck normal, it was overrated anyway.

* * *

**E/S**

It was a good thing she brought food because after Eric proved he still had the stamina of a Viking they were both exhausted and famished. They grabbed a long shower and settled on the bed as they dug into their all-day breakfast meal of scrambled eggs and pancakes.

"You didn't make this," he observed, pointing at the plate filled with over easy eggs.

She shook her head as she popped in a grape. "I'm pressed for time so I had to ask Pam to call it in so it'll be ready when I get here," she explained earning her a quizzical look from the Viking. She mirrored his cocked eyebrow and exhaled. "Pam called Thalia at the Mandalay. She said you're being a stubborn prick. Thalia gave me the message when I went down the casino to look for her."

It was Thalia, Eric's spy at the Mandalay who posed as one of the casino pit bosses, who helped her with her disguise. She managed to sneak Sookie in the staffers' locker room where the Southerner got her hands on the brown wig and the barmaid uniform. After she followed Jason and Michele at the Mandalay, they were relegated to their respective rooms where she had a lengthy discussion with her father. Well, Corbett did most of the talking because Sookie was still seething from his Lazarus trick. Before he left her to retire in his own suite, he told her that Russell was at the MGM Grand and would not be back in his second hotel until tomorrow noon.

Despite the lack of guards posted in her room, she knew that Russell would still be monitoring all her movement from his flagship hotel. And if there was anything Sookie had learned from all those nights of spying at the Mandalay and MGM with Sam, it was how to elude the hotel cameras.

"You came here because Pam told you I'm refusing sustenance?" he asked in disbelief, chortling at the absurdity of her reason.

"I may not be World's Greatest Girlfriend but I'm not going to let you starve yourself, buster," she said with a jut of her chin. "And how did you know I didn't make this?" she asked, plucking a fork full of eggs from his plate.

He shrugged as he took a small sip of his orange juice. "There were no shells in it."

She swatted him hard at the torso, making him choke on his juice. He balled his hand and pounded on his chest as he unleashed a series of shallow coughs.

Sookie, alarmed and flushed, pushed the tray aside and leaped in front of him. She started rubbing circles on his back against his black silk robe, mumbling apologies. "Oh shit, Eric, I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"

He stopped coughing in an instant and smirked devilishly. "See, I can also act."

Her mouth formed an O as she slapped him playfully at the shoulder. "You ass!"

His hearty laughter was contagious and Sookie couldn't help but join in. He caught her wrists and pulled her flush against him, the tip of his nose flicking against hers. "Speaking of ass," he cooed, "I seem to remember you promising to nail my ass when I get back. Well," he paused, slanting his head to nip her lower lip, "here I am."

She drew back and tilted her head to the side, a coy smile fighting to break free from her indignant façade. "So," she crooned, remembering the voicemail recording she made especially for him before they left Bon Temps, "you called me."

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed as he started leaving soft, wet kisses down her neck.

"It wasn't a promise. It was a threat," she muttered in the most defiant tone she could muster as she tried to keep her breathing normal. It was short of a miracle that she could form coherent thoughts at all.

"Semantics," he countered before he started sucking on the flesh under her chin. The way he was nipping at her skin she was certain that he would leave a mark -

"Eric, wait!" she blurted, pushing him away with her palms against his chest with all her fragile strength.

His eyebrow shot up.

"You'd give me a hickey," she explained. "I can't have a hickey when I go back -"

"Don't!" he snapped grinding his teeth together, "don't you fucking say it, Sookie." All traces of mirth were instantly gone replaced by a vortex of emotions that eventually led to anger.

She bit her lip to stop it from trembling. "I can't stay, Eric. You know I can't."

He seized her by the elbow. His eyes had taken a dark shade of blue as his jaw clenched and tightened. "If you think I'd let you walk away and go back to Russell then clearly you do not know me very well."

Her eyes snapped shut and the tears that appeared as if on cue started rolling down her cheeks, droplets after droplets chasing each other.

"Fuck, no!" he growled, refusing to yield to her manipulative tears. "Don't pull that one on me."

The waterworks didn't stop at his command. And his hardened expression melted despite his constant refusal. He knew she wasn't trying to influence him by playing damsel in distress. She was never a damsel although she was almost always in distress. She wouldn't admit that to anyone though. She was the kind of girl who would nitpick about extravagant gifts but would never complain about spending the night in jail.

The emotional hell her father had put her through this day alone was enough to give someone a nervous breakdown. But she wasn't just someone. She was his Sookie.

He knew that even as she wept she was trying to keep it together. Not because she was shy or embarrassed but because she didn't want pity. Especially from him.

So she cried, silent as always. And as she stifled another sob all he could think of was the terrified, fragile woman she didn't want him to see. He knew how much she hated crying. He wanted to tell her he despised seeing it even more.

'_Stop. Please,'_ he begged mutely. He detested her tears. It was one of those things he was powerless against. Something even his guards couldn't protect him from.

"Sookie…" he hushed, letting go of her elbow. He hooked a finger under her chin to make her meet his gaze.

"I love you," she whispered hoarsely when she finally opened her eyes, "so much."

His throat swelled as he tried to swallow. It wasn't the first time she had said those words to him but this time was different. It didn't feel like a declaration. It felt like a goodbye.

"I can't lose you," he rasped. "I'm tired, Sookie. I'm tired trying to compete against your father. I was already losing when we thought he was dead. What chance do I have now that he's come back to life?"

Sookie started shaking her head.

"I just spent two Mondays in two days in two different time zones. And they were the absolute worst days of my life. That was including the time I buried my father. Because _that_ at least I've seen coming. This," he paused as he took a deep breath, his hands falling at his sides, defeated, "I wasn't prepared for this. I wasn't prepared for you. I can pretend to be but I fail every time. And I'm fucking tired of failing. But mostly, I'm tired of failing when it comes to you."

She cradled his face with her hands, pressing her forehead against his. "Look at me," she paused, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. "Does this look like I'm choosing them?"

"Yet you're still leaving."

"Because I have a plan."

His jaw locked as he drilled her with a stare. He had heard those lines before. He already knew how it would end. He turned his head and pulled himself out of her grasp.

"I hate it already."

"You haven't heard it yet," she reasoned, trying to catch his eyes again.

"I don't want to hear it because it means I'm agreeing to your stupid plan. And I know it's stupid and suicidal and typical Sookie Stackhouse or Edgington or whatever fuck you want to be called now," he lashed out before he hopped off the bed and went straight into the bar to pour himself a stiff drink.

She followed him through the adjoining room, tightening the sash of her robe around her waist.

"What would you have me do?" she yelled as she crossed the length of the living room with pounding steps.

She yanked the heavy crystal glass from him just as he slammed back the liquor in one gulp.

"What would you have me do, Eric?" she repeated, challenging him, matching his glare with her glare.

"Be selfish and pick me."

"I already did!" she exclaimed. "I chose you. Why the hell do you think I want to take him down?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't insult me. We both know why and it's not because of me. You want to get your family back."

She pressed her lips together, her shoulders moving up and down from her ragged breathing.

"Haven't you been paying attention, Eric?" she asked, shooting him an indignant glare. "You _are_ my family."

"Then stay with me," he said in a low voice, waiting for the rebuff that he was sure would come.

"And then what? What happens when he grows tired of sharing this town with you? What happens when he finally decides to get back at you for Tabitha? Let's face it, Eric. He wants _you_. He wants to put you away even before I came into the picture. He's only waiting for an excuse. And _I_ am the perfect excuse. And it's all because you had the worst luck of falling in love with me," her voice softened, strangling a whimper, "I can't let him use me against you."

"We can run. We can leave everything behind," he hushed as he took a step toward her. "Say the word. Say the word, Sookie and we'll hop on a plane and leave this fucking town. Isn't that you asked me back in Bon Temps?"

She dropped her gaze and shook her head. She felt another tremor course through her spine as she fought back a sob.

"I can't do that. Not to you," she objected. "You're Eric Northman. You'll always be Eric Northman. I can't let him turn you into someone you're not. He did it with Gran. She was the strongest woman I know but he still managed to turn her into coward. And my dad," she paused, slumping her shoulders in utter disappointment. "He turned him into someone I can't even stand to look at. I can't – _I won't_ - let him do that to you. Not if I can help it. I'm not afraid of him, Eric. I can't let myself be afraid of him."

"Maybe you should be," Eric retorted.

She furrowed her brows and she could she feel the acid bubble and rise up her throat. Heartburn, she deduced. Because Eric was getting in the way of her digestion. How was it possible that she could already hear the sound of defeat in his voice?

"How do you think this will end?" he continued when she offered no negation. "Do you think you can just waltz in there and finish the bad guy? It's not that simple. You don't walk away from Russell Edgington with a fist pump and a catch phrase. You believe in your fantasy books so much that you think reality is no different. Do you really think it's that easy to slay a dragon, Sookie? You don't fight a dragon without getting burned."

"I'm fairly certain he won't have me killed," she countered with unwavering rebellion.

"He doesn't need to kill you to break you!" he volleyed back. His patience was wearing thin and he was reminded once again how futile it was to argue with her.

"The only one who can break me is standing in front of me."

That took him by surprise and he took a second longer to gather his thoughts.

"Russell didn't get to where he was by playing nice or fair. You don't know what he's capable of. He's an Edgington," was final argument.

She stared at him with unblinking eyes. "Then it's a good thing I'm also an Edgington. And I have no intention of playing fair."

His lips parted involuntarily. By god, she was the most inexorable woman he had ever met.

"You're out of your mind," he realized. "And in about five seconds I'm going to be disgusted with myself."

Confusion crossed her features. "Why?" she breathed.

"Because I'm about to kiss an Edgington."

* * *

**E/S**

"So. What do you think?" she asked apprehensively. They had just spent a good half hour hashing out Sookie's updated version of Operation Raven. (Yes, they had kept the name.)

Eric straightened and leaned back on the sofa. He tilted his head back against the top of the headrest and let out a long breath. "I think that is the most insane plan I've ever heard." Without looking at her he could tell she was frowning. No. Not frowning. Sookie wouldn't frown. Not anymore. She was saddened. Disheartened. And he immediately cursed his insatiable need to tease her.

He lowered his head to look at her then lifted her chin with his finger so he could kiss her softly on the lips. It was a sweet kiss. No tongue. No hidden agenda of getting her into bed. (Although he planned on doing it later.) Just a gentle peck to make his presence felt.

Without drawing his face away he whispered, "It's a crazy plan, yes, but it just might work."

She instantly beamed that she had to bite her lower lip to suppress a toothy grin. Eric pulled back a little to drill her with an unsmiling stare. He had to set certain ground rules.

"Now, we can't celebrate yet. The operative word here being 'might'. A lot can still go wrong. Russell has your father and your brother as leverage. To pull this off you have to be pretty convincing. So, it all depends on how good your bluff is." His tone was serious and Sookie could almost feel the energy vibrating off his skin. He was in predator mode.

"Remember, Russell is a kingmaker. And he's good at finding the obscure. I don't want to have to remind you what he'll do when he feels that the king that he made is no longer doing his bidding," he continued, never breaking eye contact with her.

Sookie felt the compulsion to nod as his eyes bore into her.

"I will be watching you the whole time. But so does Russell," Eric stressed. He was every bit the skipper. He pinched her chin and kissed her. Again, it was a quick one. Too quick for her liking.

"Are you sure about these coordinates?" he asked as he began thumbing through the pages of a small notepad he took from the table in front of them. Sookie had given it to him. It was her father's peace offering. That was also Corbett's opener to Sookie back at the Mandalay. The only reason she forced herself to humor her father.

It was a list of all of Russell's crystal meth labs in the country. Russell called them 'farms' as a play on the word pharmaceutical. Two of his major farms were in Miami, one in New Jersey and one in Nevada. Although his farms were all local, his clients were mostly from Hong Kong and Macau. It was one of the reasons he was spending a lot of time in the Asia Pacific.

Corbett didn't have the kind of access that would allow him to take part in the major dealings yet. Corbett's bloodline didn't come with that kind of power. His only job was to book the private rooms in the casino high-stakes area to make sure all the intermediaries were present for the exchange. Only Victor was permitted to make the transaction. With Victor gone, Bill Compton would assume the post.

Corbett was relegated among the underlings. He was grateful for that because Russell, with all his Machiavellian scheming, had missed a crucial lesson in business: _The small people always get the biggest tip_. Whispers were loud in the casinos. Everybody thought they had a secret worth dying for and Corbett had proven himself to be a very good listener. His inferior personality made him a hit among the middlemen. Who better to make the lowly brokers feel superior or, at the very least, adequate than someone they deemed lower than them.

Through the grapevine, he managed to get the coordinates of the farms. _Use this to burn his empire to the ground_, her father had told her in a written note that he then burned after Sookie had finished reading it. There were no delegated sentries in her suite but it didn't mean she wasn't a prisoner. She knew there were no cameras either. But based on Corbett's cloak-and-dagger movements, she was certain there were bugs. Bugs that were armed to the teeth to make a stinging bite as soon as she bared her skin.

"I will have Sam look into these," Eric said as he put the miniscule pad back on top of the round center table. He inched closer to her, clamping his hand on her knee. "Don't forget our deal," he whispered, his face back to a grim mask.

He waited for her to bob her head before he spoke again. "I have veto power, Sookie. When I tell you to go, you will listen and you will leave that place. You don't look back. Do you understand? Are you sure you can do that?"

Another curt nod. "There aren't enough thugs in the world that can keep me from coming back to you."

He had to bite his tongue to keep his stern front intact. She was making him buckle and one more cheesy comeback like that and he would cave.

He cleared his throat to retain the seriousness in his tone. "And when I tell you to run?"

She smirked deviously before she threw her arms around his neck. "I'll say 'not without you'."

That was how Eric lost the battle of schmaltz as he leaned in to silence her with his lips. He never should have doubted her, she could be pretty damned convincing when she wanted to be.

* * *

**E/S **

"Five more minutes," he murmured against the hollow of her throat as he tightened his grip around her waist.

She repressed a giggle when Eric pinched a tickle spot she didn't know existed. "Thalia's shift will be done in less than 20 minutes. I've to be in the casino before Bill comes back to sign her out."

Thalia didn't just help Sookie with her disguise, she _was_ her disguise. She booked Sookie a seat in one of the private poker rooms that was located at the murder central. Murder central was the term they used for the rooms that were situated in the far end of every corridor. A room with no clear view of the surveillance and a fire escape for easy exit. It was a rarely used room, reserved only for the most discreet and valued clients. Apparently, being the granddaughter of the owner had its perks.

"At least wait for me to fall asleep," he tried another approach when she started wiggling out of his grasp, which was a difficult task to accomplish especially when he was putting all his weight on her.

She chuckled with syrupy sarcasm. "You're a vampire. You only sleep when the sun goes up." She managed to pull herself from under him, which earned her a loud groan from the Viking.

She vanished into the vanity closet and took one of the A-line cocktail dresses she kept in the suite in case of emergency because the barmaid uniform she had worn had been reduced to unwearable shreds.

He slid off the bed and followed her in the dressing room, wearing only his silk gray boxers.

His hands brushed against the side of her neck as he closed his hands over hers that were fighting to clasp the top button of her dress. "Let me," he muttered as he placed a kiss on her nape before he buttoned and zipped her up ever so slowly.

This was the hardest part of their plan.

"How long?"

"Two weeks. One month tops."

His chest deflated as he let out a puff of breath. "That's too long."

"I'm sorry."

He couldn't form another rejoinder. He knew she meant it. He, too, was sorry.

In some kind of sick cosmic retribution a Northman fell for an Edgington. They were like a Greek tragedy that no one wanted to read about.

"Can I borrow your jacket? It's cold in the casino," she requested, taking the black blazer he had worn for two days off the coat hanger beside her.

He lifted his brow, a sly smile creeping from the side of his lips. "Are you sure it's your thin Southern blood or is it just an excuse to get my jacket for your sniffing pleasure when you miss me?"

She rolled her eyes but did not contradict his assumption. She sauntered toward the full length mirror at the opposite side of the dressing room. With the finesse of someone who knew she was being watched, she put on his jacket that still smelled of his subtle cologne.

Just as she was smoothing out the lapels, she felt a bulge from one of the inner pockets. "What's this?"

Eric, who was watching her from a short distance, visibly stiffened when she plucked out a black velvet box from the inside pocket. The mobility of his feet became questionable when he remained bolted on the floor as he stared at her while she opened the box with curious eyes.

"Eric, what's this?" she asked as she held the platinum ring with the biggest rock she had ever seen and held between her fingers.

He didn't reply. He didn't know what to say exactly. _'Oh, that. It's yours. Want to marry me?'_

She took a couple of steps toward him, her eyes uncertain. Terrified, even.

"Is this -" she stammered, eyes widening. "Please tell me this is for me and not for some whore you're plannin' to rendezvous with in Macau."

He shot her a look that said, _'What do you think?'_

"Then wha-why—I mean – are you sure?" Her hand touched her gut as she bent low. She couldn't breathe.

He stepped closer but she held out her palm to him. "No, Eric. Please, stay there," she pleaded. "I can't think - you're so close- shit! I can't even finish a stupid sentence."

She was breathing audibly as she gripped the side of one of the closet doors.

After an excruciatingly long time she looked up and asked, "Why didn't you?"

Swallowing thickly he flung the question back at her. "Would you have said yes?"

Silence draped the air and he counted the number of heartbeats it took her to form a response.

Jutting her chin out, she lifted the ring until it was levelled to her face. "Why don't you ask me and find out?"

His lips gaped and it was her turn to tick the seconds in her head.

"Ask me, Eric," she implored once more. "It doesn't even have to be dramatic. Heaven knows we have enough drama to last us a lifetime. You don't even need to go down on your knee. Just ask me and I swear I will say yes and we can go down the chapel and have Elvis marry us."

He still couldn't form a single rational thought. He had thought of asking her a million times in his head and this, right here, never even crossed his mind.

"Please, Eric."

Was she seriously begging him, he mused, and he could feel elation rising up from the balls of his feet all the way to gut.

"Before everything goes to shit. So even if our plan doesn't work, I will die a Northman."

He froze.

The surprised elation in his eyes quickly changed into one of annoyance. Abject displeasure.

He snapped his lips together. "No," was his curt reply.

She was dumbstruck as she flitted her gaze at the ring and then back at Eric.

"I will not ask you to marry me out of desperation or necessity. I don't want you to marry me because you hate your name or you feel like we're fighting a lost cause."

Tears swelled at the rim of her eyes.

"We will take Russell Edgington down, do you hear me?" he gritted as he walked toward her with purposeful strides. "Your plan will work. I _will_ make it work. And when it's all over, then I'll ask you. I'll ask you in a wickedly perfect way that you'll have no other choice but to say yes. And you won't be an Edgington anymore, or a Stackhouse. You'll be a Northman. You'll be mine, because in case you haven't noticed, Sookie, I'm already yours."

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric.**

**Until next time, loves. Thank you!**

**PS: pardon the mistakes. **


	45. Chapter 45

Growing up with a grandmother who had a nose of a wolf and an ear of an owl had taught Sookie a thing or two about sneaking back into her room after she had been out way past her bedtime.

But this wasn't a small three-room farmhouse with creaky floors. It was one of the biggest hotels in Vegas where she had to evade not one pair of eyes but a hundred unblinking ones. Knowing exactly where the cameras were, she kept her dark wig intact and her eyes to the floor as she made her way into the casino where she would meet Thalia in the private poker room.

However, before she could pivot into the high-stakes floor, a cold, dry hand gripped her wrist and steered her into the hallway, which led to the elevators that would take the guests back to their rooms.

She didn't need to look up to see who caught her.

"Evenin', Sookie," Bill Compton murmured beside her without sparing her a glance as he pressed the up arrow button of one of the lifts. The small corridor was empty save for the lone male guard in his thirties, whose job was to screen the dubious people who were trying to board the elevators by asking them to flash their hotel keys.

The elevator to their left pinged as the doors slid open. With a gentle but firm tug, Bill ushered her in the metal box. Sookie didn't offer any resistance. It wasn't the first time she had been caught red-handed and she learned that the faster way to get out of this kind of mess was to admit it was her fault, promise never to do it again and retire to her room. Easy peasy.

They stepped inside the lift and Sookie watched Bill press her floor number followed by the close-door button. She only had to suffer him for a few more minutes as their box climbed to the 25th floor, where her, Jason and Michele's designated rooms were.

"It's a bit late for a stroll, don't you think?" Bill mused out loud when he finally let go of her wrist. He trained his eyes forward, refusing to look at her.

Sookie couldn't help but sigh. Bill wasn't going to make it an easy run.

"And you're too much of a creep to be a babysitter, don't you think?" was her dry retort. This was no time for niceties, especially when it came to Bill.

The brooding Southerner fell silent, his jaw tightening. Sookie darted her eyes to the floor indicator to her right and was relieved to see that there were only a couple more floors to go and she would be home free.

The lift jarred to a stop before the doors yawned open to let them out.

The awkward silence hung in the air as they made their way to Sookie's assigned suite, four rooms away from Jason and Michele's. Corbett's room was located three floors up.

"I'd invite you in but I don't really want to," Sookie deadpanned as she fished for her room key inside the pocket of the black blazer she borrowed from Eric.

They were standing in front of her door. It was almost four in the morning and the hallway was deserted. Sookie stole a glance at the surveillance camera at the ceiling, knowing all too well that Eric would be watching her from the North. He would see her off, he insisted, and she knew Eric would do so from the comfort of his tower. She wanted to give Eric a signal that there was no trouble, although she could see one standing beside her right now.

"You might find it hard to believe, Sookie, but I still consider you a dear friend despite your questionable actions," Bill muttered with a hint of disappointment when he, at last, found the courage to look her square in the eyes.

She smirked. "You're right, I find that hard to believe."

Bill shoved his hands in his pockets before he balled them into fists. Sookie caught the slight bulges in his pockets and couldn't help but feel a sense of victory that she had somehow gotten under his skin.

"I didn't choose this path for you," he tried again. "This is your fate."

"Is that what you tell yourself at night when you decided to throw my life in the woodchipper?" Sookie spat, narrowing her eyes at him.

"You have so much hate in you that it's making you ignorant," he gritted. Sookie fought the urge to look at the camera again, afraid that Eric might mistake it for a call for help.

She forced herself to smile. "I _was_ ignorant. I was damn fool when I thought I could trust you. It was also stupid of me to think that you're only a cockroach, who shits all over the place, when, in fact, you're a snake in the grass. Lurking and waiting for a chance to attack."

He cackled while shaking his head slowly. It was a grating and bitter sound that she hadn't heard from him before. "_I'm_ a snake?" he asked incredulously, jabbing his thumb at his chest. "How can you tell when you're sleeping with the biggest reptile in town? I'll let you in on a little secret," he whispered as he leaned toward her, "Vegas is a snake pit, Sookie, you have to act like them to survive. Otherwise, you're just food waiting to be eaten."

"Such wise words coming from you. How long did it take you to come up with that?" she countered, tilting her head to the side, her leer still in place.

He shook his head. "That's a warning," he replied bitingly. "Your blood can only buy you so much patience from Russell. Don't even think for a second that he'll spare you because you're his bastard's daughter."

"I have no illusions," she hummed, schooling her face to remain blank. It wasn't hard to tune Bill out when she was imagining all the creative ways she could torture him later.

"Good for you," he quipped. "You should learn from Corbett's mistakes."

She turned to the door and pressed her key to the lock pad. The red light at the top left corner of the electronic lock changed into green accompanied by two tinny dings. She grabbed the brass handle before she turned her head back to Bill.

"Thanks for the warning," she chirped. "You can be sure I won't make the same mistake of trusting Russell."

Bill seized her elbow before Sookie could push the heavy dark brown laminated door in.

"That's where you're wrong," he whisper-hissed in a hurry, "Corbett didn't trust Russell. He betrayed him."

Sookie pivoted sharply to face him while yanking her elbow away. Bill surely needed a refresher on sarcasm.

"Do you know how Corbett got that nasty scar on his face?" he asked. His voice lilting making his Southern accent more pronounced. "It was from the night he sold the Scarface to Godric Northman. Russell ordered him to get it back but Corbett stubbornly refused."

Sookie kept her eyes on Bill, gauging the truth in his words. Eric had told her about the chip. That it was the reason he went to Macau, to find out how Godric got his hands on the legendary coin. Felipe had told Eric that Godric bought it for $20 million but according to her father, Godric had paid a whopping 50 mil for it. It meant Victor, despite his horrendous state in Sabaneta, still tried to swindle Felipe more than half of the money he had stolen from Corbett.

What Sookie didn't know was that Corbett's ugly scar was part of the bargain her father had paid in his futile attempt to buy Sookie and Jason's freedom.

"Victor was a very vivid storyteller, don't you know? He told me how Russell pushed Corbett's face hard against the dining table and dragged a steak knife from his ear all the way down to the corner of his mouth. He watched his son with an eerie calm as Corbett's blood soaked the white tablecloth."

Sookie tightened her grip on the door handle, begging that it was enough to keep her on her feet.

Bill eyed her triumphantly as he leaned against the wall. "It was a bit macabre, no? Now, every time Corbett looks in the mirror, he'll be reminded of the time he lost the chip to a Northman." Bill fiddled with the tip of his checkered tie. "In the end, Russell still got his Scarface – it didn't matter if it were carved on metal or flesh."

Sookie could feel the rush of blood shoot up to her head, reaching a dangerous boiling point. She was grateful for the metal handle she was gripping because she could feel her knees trembling - thrown off from the lurid image Bill had so generously given her. It didn't matter how much she despised her father for faking his own death. He was still her father. And Bill knew that nothing could hit Sookie harder than a direct hit on her family.

She turned back to the door, pressing her body closer to the laminated wood and away from the camera's line of sight. She had to keep it together. She could not afford to explode at Bill. Although every cell in her body was screaming at her to claw his face off, drag her nails on his skin and give him a scar that would put the one on his Dad's face to shame.

No. Not while Eric was watching. She knew that he would scale the walls of Jericho for her. Breaking into Mandalay would be child's play to him and all their planning would be reduced to just that: _a plan_. So, no, she had to hold it together.

Twisting the handle again she shoved the door open while she was forcing a yawn. It was an old trick she used when she was trying to push back traitorous tears. "This is lovely and all, Bill. But can we continue this some other time? I'm really tired." She went for another dramatic yawn while covering her mouth with the back of her hand to muffle the cracking in her voice.

Bill pressed his lips into a thin line. He was clearly disappointed with her reaction. "Just - " he started then closed his mouth again, as though he was choosing his words carefully in his head, "—just don't do anything reckless, Sookie. Eric is a Northman and you're an Edgington. You can never be with him. Not again. Russell won't be so forgiving next time."

Taking an audible breath, she rolled her eyes toward Bill. She let out a hearty chuckle while she arranged her features to project indifference. "Are you serious? What am I a Capulet, now?"

His eyes squeezed into slits as they bore into her, finding no humor in her bon mot. "Laugh all you want, but let me just remind you, Sookie, be careful what you wish for. Because if I remember my Shakespeare correctly, there's no better tale of woe than the story of Juliet and her Romeo."

* * *

**E/S**

Russell wasted no time in dishing out punishment for Sookie. She woke up the next day to find Jason and Michele gone, transferred to an undisclosed location.

Sookie didn't have the cards to go up against Russell. At least not yet. So she did what she usually does when she was dealt a bad hand: _She bluffed_. She wore her perfect poker face every time she was summoned to sit in with her father in Russell's conference room while Russell tried to teach Corbett how to handle the everyday chores in the casino.

It was laughable really. Anyone with enough sense could see that it was nothing but a pitiful charade. Corbett continued to be submissive toward his father and Sookie could feel her hatred directed to her dad melting down every time Russell debased him. She wanted to slap some sense into her father every single time he would only nod his assent at all the whimsical and trivial chores Russell threw his way.

"Have the slot machines at the east wing checked."

"Make sure the suites are ready for the Threadgills and the Talleys."

"Round up the pit bosses for William's briefing."

It was one pathetic instruction after another.

It wasn't hard to discern Russell's strategy. He was showing Sookie how much power he had over Corbett. He didn't need to spell it out for her. The message was loud and clear: _If I could do it to him, I could do it to you_.

Russell was only buying time. And so was she. She was starting to see her resemblance with Russell despite her constant denial. They were both skilled gamblers. Slow playing each other, mastering the art of the carefully held eye contact, while patiently waiting for the killer hand as they continue to build the pot.

She never had the chance to speak to her father privately again. Bill was always with her, shadowing her every move. She never asked about Jason or Michele. She knew she wouldn't get the answer she desired anyway. And she wouldn't let Russell see through her mask of ennui.

If Jason and Michele were the initial flop in the game they were playing, Corbett was the turn card. After a week, Corbett was sent back to Macau. That was the time Sookie decided to start emptying her bar, looking for answers at the bottom of the bottles.

Two painfully long days later, Russell drew the river card.

"Ah, Susannah, there you are," Russell said as he raised his gaze from the stack of papers on his desk. "Sit, sit." He waved his hand gracefully toward one of the two leather chairs across the massive carved rosewood table.

Sookie hesitated for a moment before she took her seat, keeping her guarded expression.

Russell dismissed Bill with a curt nod and his second-in-command made a wordless retreat. He leaned back on his chair placing both palms against his stomach. "You seem well," he observed. "Are they treating you kindly?"

"It could be better," she replied tersely.

His lips curved into a flat grin as he locked his fingers together and placed them gently on the table.

"We never had the chance to talk, just you and I. I heard you and your father had a very _emotional_ reunion," he said, his sneer intact. "Have you resolved your issue with him before he left?"

She bit hard to swallow the ire rising in her chest. "The jury's still out. But it doesn't mean I stopped caring for him. I would have wanted a chance to send him off."

"Ah, care. Such a polite word when you can't decide whether you still give a fuck about someone or not." He straightened his back while he loosened the black silk tie around his neck. "How long have you been here? One week?"

"Nine days."

"Huh? Has it been that long?" He drew his brows together. "Well then I think it's time you earn your keep."

Her eyebrow arched. "You're kiddin', right? You want me to work for you for keeping me hostage?"

Clicking his tongue, his eyes fluttered as he shook his head gently. "No, no, no. No one's keeping you hostage, Susannah. You are free to leave whenever you want. It was _you_ who came to _me_."

"I didn't come here for you. I came here for my father. The man you've hidden from us for 10 years."

He made a low hissing sound by whistling through his teeth. "You, my dear, have been gravely misled. I offered your father a choice. But he chose to leave you and your brother to live an impoverished life instead of enjoying the luxury my vast fortune could afford." He tilted his head and tugged at the dangling flesh under his right ear. "Corbett, bless his heart, is an idiot. He got that trait from Adele. He let his emotions rule rather than his instinct."

Sookie ground her teeth. This man had just insulted two of the most important people in her life in a single breath.

"Get to your point fast. There's a rerun of Glee that'll start in 10 minutes."

His low, throaty laugh filled the room. Sookie didn't know what a devil's cackle sounded like but she was willing to bet an arm and a leg it resembled the sound he just made.

"I was told you have a flair for repartee. I didn't think you'd be so bold to throw one at me," he said between hollow cackles. "Isn't she a piece of work, Nora?"

Like a wily chameleon, a lissome brunette with piercing green eyes, crept out from a slim door beside the customized floor-to-ceiling bookcase. She waltzed toward Sookie and Russell, her narrow waist looking even slimmer against her fitted strapless purple dress.

Sookie's eyes were reduced into slits as she zeroed in on the woman who had tried to sabotage her far too many times in the past.

"Yes. She is quite clever," Nora agreed in her thick British accent. She sauntered to the desk, holding a glass of amber-colored liquor, until she was right in front of the Southerner. She propped herself at the edge of the polished desk and crossed her legs with all the grace of a lady.

"How many times do I have to flush to get rid of you," Sookie asked dryly. "Weren't you banished?"

Nora pressed her lips together before she let out an uncouth snort. "Don't worry, princess, I'm not here to entertain you." She ran her free hand across the length of her tight skirt. "I'm here because I heard Eric's back in the market." Nora wasn't smiling but Sookie knew there was a malicious grin hiding somewhere under the layers of her expensive make-up. "Didn't I warn you? It'll only be a matter of time before he toss you away like yesterday's rubbish."

Sookie, unlike Nora, didn't try to disguise her leer. "He didn't dump me."

"So why are you here?" Nora volleyed back.

"Because I was told to stay away from him." Sookie pointed a glare at Russell, who was watching her interaction with Nora with the stoicism one could only pull off from years of practice. "Apparently, a relationship with Eric Northman is unacceptable."

Russell stayed silent like he was waiting for his cue.

Bending toward Sookie, the British brunette gave Sookie a full view of her cleavage. "Trust me, darling, after tonight you wouldn't mind staying away from him."

Sookie didn't say a word. She didn't need to. The perplexity that was written all over her face was hard to miss.

Russell cleared his throat. That was the introduction he was waiting for. "It has been brought to my attention that I have a rat in my house."

Sookie kept her face emotionless. "I know. I'm staring at one right now."

Nora huffed indignantly before she took a sip of her liquor.

"Don't play coy with me. You play a slyer game than that. You know exactly who I'm referring to," he drawled.

Sookie directed her eyes at Russell, tightening her jaw and her glare. "I'm not a snitch."

"I know you're not," Russell replied calmly. "You're an Edgington, after all. That kind of menial task is too demeaning for our kind."

If Nora were offended by his insinuation she didn't show it.

"Flattery won't get you far. You won't get any info from me."

"You don't get it, Susannah. I have all the information I need. I know its Thalia Romero. I also know that she's the one who helped you sneak into the North that first night you came here."

Sookie swallowed the thick bile that was lodged in her throat. At this point, denial was futile. "What are you gonna do with her?" She shifted in her seat as a bead of cold sweat swelled at her nape.

"Nonono. Not me," he hummed with a gentle shake of head. He jabbed his pale bony finger at her. "You."

Sookie dug her nails in her palms to keep her hand from trembling. "You want me to fire her?" She doubted that was the case but one could hope.

Russell and Nora exchanged a look of amusement before they burst into a fit of aggravating chuckles.

"Susannah, Susannah," he cooed in his subtle Mississippi drawl. "You sweet girl. You misunderstood my request. I don't want you to fire her. I want you to terminate her… _permanently_."

Sookie mouth gaped before she bolted out of her seat, slamming her palms flat on the desk. "No! I'm not a murderer!"

Nora, who was taken aback by Sookie's outburst, slid off the table and circled around to stand behind Russell's massive high back chair.

"We are all killers, Susannah," Russell drawled flatly. "It's only a matter of perspective. You think I'm the villain here but if you look at it from my point of view, it's Northman who had planted a mole in the hopes of taking me down. I am only doing what needs to be done to protect my house."

Sookie was visibly shaking but she still managed to keep her stony glare. "Why me? Why not ask one of your lackeys to do it for you?" she gritted as she stabbed Nora with a glare. "Ask her to do it. She's as soulless as you."

He began rubbing his shaven chin as he sank back to his seat. "You still haven't figured it out?"

Sookie's eyes were losing focus as they landed on the desk that was warming under her palms. She lifted her gaze back to Russell when it began to dawn on her. "You want Eric to hate me," she deduced.

Nora finally let her lecherous sneer creep from the side of her mouth. "Oh look, her cunt's not the only thing working."

Russell whisked his head to shoot Nora a withering look. "Mind your tongue. I will not have you talk to my granddaughter like that." He didn't need to raise his voice to get his point across as Nora shrank cowardly behind him.

It was Sookie's turn to let out a crass snort. "I don't know how your grandfather raised you but normal people don't ask their grandchildren to be cold-blooded killers."

"My grandfather took me hunting when I was seven. I could barely lift a barrel but I still managed to make my first kill."

"Count me out. I had a taste of what's it's like to be in jail. And I prefer to stay at the other side of the iron bars, thank you very much."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't be so dramatic, Susannah. It's in your blood."

"I'm not an Edgington."

"Whether you admit it or not, that option is no longer viable for you," he drawled. "You will do as I say."

"Why?" she breathed out.

"Because I want to know if I can trust you," he replied casually. "And yes, because I want Northman to loathe you. I want him to rue the day he defiled an Edgington. It ultimately was his fault. I warned him after he took my Tabitha. I warned him that the next time he touch what is mine will be the end of his golden boy days. Now that I have the perfect weapon to ruin him, why not put it to good use?"

Sookie blinked rapidly, fighting to keep her tears at bay. "I won't do it." She was adamant in her refusal. "You can't make me. Kill me if you want. I won't do it!"

Russell reached out to touch the back of her hand and Sookie yanked it back just as fast, her face contorting into a look of utter disgust.

His eyes narrowed at the slight, but he was quick to regain his poise as he steepled his fingers in front of him. "You know I can't spill my own blood," he intoned before he tugged at his left ear. "However," his finger stabbed the air as if he had just had a lightbulb moment, "Michele, on the other hand, is no Edgington, which makes her fair game."

Sookie's jaw slackened from horror. "No," she hushed, "she's pregnant with Jason's child."

He shrugged with an air of nonchalance. "Merely by accident. Jason's young and from what I gathered he is quite the ladies' man. I'm certain that if he can knock up that ninnyhammer without even trying he can do so again with someone who is less… mediocre."

"She's pregnant," Sookie stressed, enunciating each syllable, as though that would make any difference.

"Do I look like I care?" he answered, mimicking the way she dragged out the syllables.

Sookie slumped back in her chair, crossing her arms around her waist, hugging herself. If there was one thing Vegas had taught her it was to never pick a fight you couldn't win.

Minutes passed by. But they weren't long enough. No amount of time would be sufficient for such a decision.

She could feel Russell's patience chipping away as the seconds ticked away quickly.

"Susannah -" he sighed but was cut off when she lifted her chin to him.

"I'll do it," Sookie finally said in a defeated tone. Although her eyes never flitted away from Russell, she could sense Nora's elation cut through the thick air.

_Bitch_.

Russell smiled with the kind of triumph that sent Sookie's stomach churning. "Splendid. I want it done tonight."

"I have conditions," Sookie interrupted before he could start giving out instructions.

His brow cocked but his smile didn't falter. "Naturally."

"I'll do it my way," she started, taking lyrics from Sinatra. "I want it as painless for Thalia as possible. And quick. You'll also help me with the clean-up. I'm not going back to jail for this."

His grin crept even wider. It was obvious he liked this new side of Sookie. It was his blood in her talking. "I would have made it as slow and painful as possible but I guess I can't have it both ways."

"I have a couple more demands."

Nora sighed loudly as her eyes rolled to Sookie. "You're going to milk this, aren't you?"

Sookie stabbed Nora with a look. "Yes, Nora. I'm going to milk this right down to the bone and even that will not be remotely enough to make up for what I'm about to do. Y'know taking someone's life may not be a big deal to someone as depraved as you but I am nothing like you."

Nora caught a strand of her dark hair and began twirling it around her dainty finger. "Don't pretend to be so decent. At the end of the day, you'd still be a killer."

"Enough with the bickering," Russell scolded, his tone still carefully controlled. "Tell me your other terms."

"Let Michele go. After I'm done with what you asked me, you'll have enough to hang over my head. You don't need her anymore. Let her go back to Bon Temps. To her family. You said it yourself she doesn't deserve Jason," Sookie tried to negotiate.

Russell became pensive as he fixed his gaze on her. Sookie could feel the sweat at the back her neck roll down her back. She remained unnaturally still, silently breathing through her nose. The room was so quiet she could hear the soft humming of the central air-conditioner through the walls.

He pushed his chair back, making Nora step backward before he circled around his table to sit on the edge of the desk in front of Sookie.

He was studying her closely, as though could see something no one else could.

"Done," he replied with a casual flip of a hand.

Sookie held her breath. Just like in every contract, there would always be that damned fine print.

"But if you try to cross me, Susannah, I want you to remember that I have Corbett and Jason. I only need one heir to continue my legacy. The question is… who will it be?"

Thrusting her chin toward him, she nodded her comprehension.

He drew his face back, crossed his ankles and began drumming his fingers on top of the table. "What is your other demand?"

Sookie took an audible breath. "I want you to return the money I owed Eric for paying off Longshadow. The last thing I want is to be indebted to him. I also have a two-year contract in Fiordilatte. So unless you want me to continue working there, I suggest you ask your lawyers to help me get out of my contract," she stated in a professional tone. The only indication of her nervy state was the slight hitching of her breath when she mentioned the Viking's name.

Subtle as it was, it didn't escape Russell as one side of his mouth pulled upwards.

"I assume you want to give to him personally?" he asked with an arched brow.

Sookie shook her head as she dropped her eyes to her lap. "Have a messenger deliver it. Nora's right. After tonight, I may not be able to look him in the eyes anymore." Her lower lips twitched as she kept wringing her hands on top of her lap.

"Very well. I'll have Nora do it."

Out of Sookie's periphery she could see Nora smiling with unabashed glee, excited for her impending task.

_Shameless whore_.

Sookie fixed her gaze back to Russell. "I want it in cash. The least I can do is to make it easy for him."

Russell's eyebrow shot up to his receding hairline. Sookie was overplaying her card.

"No," he snapped, "I'll write him a cashier's check and I want him to hand over the deed to the farmhouse in return." Eric had given her back the deed to the farmhouse after he had paid off her debt to Longshadow. It was in his vault in the mansion at Spring Valley.

"Haven't you taken enough from my –" Sookie halted midsentence as she caught her faux pas, "- from Earl? Leave the farmhouse to the Stackhouses. _Please_."

The Southerner added 'Please' to sound desperate although she already had an inkling Russell was not the type of person that could be easily appeased or convinced.

"Unacceptable," was his predictable reply. In his head, Earl had cheated him of a lifetime with Adele and Corbett, he wasn't about to let Earl have anything to his name - even from six feet under. "We're done haggling. Now tell me what you plan to do with our pest problem."

Sookie drew a long breath. It was time to go atomic.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric. **

**This is a long chapter that was cut into two. The next one will be up soon. I just want to finish editing it for glaring mistakes. See: glaring. I'm sure it'll still be riddled with flaws, but I want it to be at least readable for you guys. **

**Thank you for reading and leaving comments. Love, love!**


	46. Chapter 46

The knocks on her door didn't startle her. She grabbed the glass of vodka tonic on her nightstand that had left a ring of moisture on the table from the lack of coaster before she stood up to open the door for Bill.

She was expecting him. After she had left Russell's ground-floor office, Bill was sent to meet with her at the casino to give him the list of things she required to deal with Thalia who would be working the graveyard shift that evening. How fitting, Sookie thought grimly, for it would be the last shift Thalia would have in the Mandalay before she would be sent straight to the graveyard.

With hooded gaze, she greeted Bill armed with the dark expression she reserved just for him. "Did you get it?"

By _it_ she meant the special cocktail of downers that Bill had secured for her from the Nevada _farm_. It was a new designer drug that Russell had been trying to develop and perfect through his notable pharmacologists. The exceptional patent was dubbed as the new meth although it was nothing like the illicit recreational drug. It was made from a combination of downers – barbiturates – that in low doses could give the user a feeling of 'euphoria and relaxed contentment' while in a state of complete physical numbness. It was Russell's most popular product because of its unique quality. It made Vicodin look like Advil or Tylenol. But the best part about the designer drug was that it was virtually untraceable. It could not be easily detected through a wide range tox screen. One had to know what to look for in order to identify its presence in the user's blood.

A high dose of the special mix was fatal. It could paralyze anyone within seconds that – without immediate treatment - would eventually lead to death. In short, it was the ultimate weapon. The silent killer.

Bill's eyes raked over her form, noting the glass of clear liquor in her hand that explained her heavy-lidded eyes, before he handed her a brown paper bag with two vials of 'liquid B'.

He sidestepped her to enter the modest suite. "Are you certain you're up for this?" he asked, scanning the rest of the room. There were empty miniscule bottles of vodka on top of the TV rack and a couple more on the bedside table. "How many drinks have you had?"

Sookie staggered back to the bed, swaying her hips theatrically thus giving him the answer to his query: _More than enough_.

The glass made a loud thunk when she slammed it on top of the dining trolley from when she ordered room service. She ducked behind the rolling table and grabbed one of her black stilettos at the foot of the bed and slipped it on with very little grace. She had chosen a black halter top dress to wear for tonight. It was a funeral after all.

"How are you going to pull this off when you're drunk?"

She put on her other shoe without looking at Bill.

He grabbed her elbow and tugged it. "Sookie, are you listening to me?"

She wrestled out of his grasp and shot him a venomous look. "Touch me again and you lose a hand." Admittedly it wasn't the cleverest of comebacks but she had no patience to think of a more creative retort for someone as pathetic as Bill. "I will drink as much as I want because there's no way I can pull this off when I'm lucid. Does that answer your question, Bill?" She cocked her head to the side while squinting her eyes.

Bill pressed his lips together before he gave her a terse nod.

He checked his branded wristwatch. It was almost midnight. The witching hour. "We should be going. Thalia's shift has already started. Can you even walk straight?"

She merely smiled. "Gimme a minute to freshen up," she replied, grabbing her red purse and the brown paper bag from the bed, before she marched to the bathroom leaving Bill to count the number of mini bottles she had downed. He came up with nine miniscule bottles of Grey Goose. The mini bar had five assorted liquors for each room. Given that it was a small suite, it still wasn't possible that her small fridge had that many vodkas in stock. She must have requested for additional Grey Goose.

After a brief time she sauntered back to the bedroom, looking sober enough.

"Shall we?" she asked.

Bill's wary expression was back as he trailed her to the door. "Sookie," he started, fighting the urge to hold her hand, "I'm deeply sorry that you have to do this. "

She pivoted to look at him. "Spare me. And don't even pretend to be contrite. You know what kind of hell you're putting me into the minute you decided to lure me into this god forsaken town."

Bill dropped his gaze. "It'll get better. We all had to go through an initiation to earn his favor."

"Ain't that a peach? All I had to do was kill someone to please granddaddy," she deadpanned.

His apologetic façade faded into irritation. She could feel the anger building up in him. Soon, he would be batting for another homerun. "I have to admit, Sookie, I never thought you'd agree to this so easily."

He was like a shark circling the water.

She took half a step closer to him, her eyes challenging him. "You think this is easy? Give me that tone again and I'll show you how easy it is for me to take a life." She saw Bill gulp as he chucked his hands in his pockets, fiddling for nothing in particular. She forced herself to smile as she reached for his blue pinstriped tie, patting it to his chest. "Honestly, I'm also surprised with myself. I guess I really am an Edgington after all?"

He visibly relaxed, his eyes giving her that warm glint. "You're a brave woman. And calm, too. The first time I had to interrogate someone in the basement, I was sweating through my shirt."

Sookie had been in the Edgington territory long enough to know what interrogation really meant. It was an adaptation of the military way: _Shoot first, ask questions later_. A clean shot on the arm meant they wanted answers, ergo the flesh wound. A bullet at the back of the head meant the question-and-answer portion was no longer a requirement.

She huffed through her nose before she spun on her heel to march to the door. "I guess Dante said it best when he wrote that the darkest places in hell are reserved for those who remain neutral in time of moral dilemma," she said, paraphrasing an excerpt from Dante Alighieri's poem Inferno.

Bill was fast on her trail. He chortled while rubbing his chin. "I'll be sure to pack up enough flashlights for us," was his attempt to lighten the mood.

Sookie made a sharp turn toward him, holding the door open. "Oh no, Bill. No one had the stomach to write about your place in hell yet."

Bill swallowed again. She had so much anger and Bill was too close a target. She was, without question, a bitch. And a meaner bitch when drunk.

* * *

**E/S**

Thalia was in her usual pit in the Black Jack tables. Sookie stole a quick glance at the black dome above her head, which concealed the multiple cameras that surveyed the entire pit of Baccarat tables. She took a seat in one of the tables that had a clear view of Thalia's pit. She nodded at the pit boss in charge of her table. The suit-and-tied pit boss, Simon, a dark Indian man with caterpillar brows and deep-set eyes, took one look at Sookie before he handed her a ten-thousand-dollar marker that Sookie quickly relinquished to the dealer, who then changed it into hundred-dollar chips.

Bill kept his eyes glued to Sookie as the Southerner started placing her bets. She wasn't paying attention to the electronic display beside the dealer, which showed the trend of wins on the table, otherwise known as bead plate. The vertical line of red dots represented the banker while the queues of blue circles were for the player. The trend in her table was in favor of the player which tallied the most wins. Despite the obvious pattern, Sookie kept insisting on betting on the banker. Bill couldn't help but shake his head. An inebriated Sookie was a lousy gambler, he inferred.

Sookie would bet at a regular interval, while casually tapping the lid of the white paper cup beside her dwindling stack of chips. The black lid on her cup was still sealed to keep her drink warm.

Bill was beginning to wonder if Sookie had mistaken Baccarat for Black Jack because it always took her longer to squeeze her card whenever she was dealt a face card. A face card – King, Queen or Jack – had no value in Baccarat but it was equivalent to ten in Black Jack. For the umpteenth time, he questioned her sobriety.

After a few more bets, he saw Sookie gather her remaining chips and throw them in her purse before she made her way to the 24-hour coffee shop at the back of the gaming floor. He didn't need to follow her line of vision to know that she was following Thalia, who would be getting her usual cup of coffee for her 15-minute cigarette break in the backroom.

Game time.

Without entering the bar, Bill saw Sookie go straight to the counter, placing her disposable cup on top of the wooden bar, where the orders would be placed for the customers as soon as they were ready for pick-up. Sookie made a show of checking out the pastries as she ducked her head and pointed at one of the pies inside the display cases beside the counter.

About two minutes later, the barista called Thalia's order of caramel macchiato and Bill spied Sookie beat Thalia to her order. The casino manager didn't look as though she noticed the switch as she grabbed the only remaining cup on top of the bar.

Before Sookie and Bill went to the casino floor, Sookie had ordered Thalia's usual cup from the café. It was a Wednesday so Thalia would be getting the macchiato. The only time Thalia would replace her usual with a blonde roast were Fridays and Saturdays. She needed the extra caffeine boost during those days since they were the ones with the most guests.

One quick trip to the restroom later and Sookie was armed with her weapon of choice to dispose the pit boss.

Bill bit back a smile. The switch was seamless. Effortless even. Sookie gave Thalia a casual wave as the pit boss exited the café to go to the smokers' lounge just outside the coffee shop for her nicotine fix.

As soon as Thalia was no longer in sight Bill marched into the café and took the seat across Sookie, who was looking a shade paler. "Are you alright?"

He heard one of the staff call out her order of blueberry cheesecake and he immediately stood up to get it for her.

"I don't feel so good," she murmured lowly, placing her palm flat against her stomach.

The alcohol in her system was kicking in, Bill thought. Or it could be that she was now realizing the magnitude of her action. "I can bring you back to your room," Bill offered, already on his feet beside her.

She shook her head. "Not yet. I have to make sure it's over."

He understood her desire to finish the job. Russell was very particular about it.

It happened fairly quickly. Fifteen minutes later, he fixed his gaze on the casino entrance which would be Thalia's point of entry from the backroom. No sign of her. Ten minutes and the Latina pit boss was still a no-show. It was past her allotted break time and Bill expected her reliever to look for her.

Then Bill's mobile phone vibrated inside his jacket pocket and just like that he knew Thalia had succumbed to her fatal macchiato. It was Sookie's idea to spike Thalia's drink with liquid B.

'_Something I learned from my time in the joint,'_ was her stab at dark humor when he asked her why she chose that approach in disposing off Thalia. She grudgingly dubbed it the _'Longshadow job'_.

He answered his phone and the guard-on-duty's voice blared in his ear informing Bill of something he already knew.

He kept mum as he listened to the frantic caller. "Call 911," Bill instructed after a while, "I'm on my way. And Thompson, keep it quiet. We don't want to alarm our guests."

He pushed the end call button and shoved the phone back in his pocket. "It's done. The guard found her in the lounge, unconscious - no pulse," he reported.

Sookie lowered her gaze to the round wooden table as she bit her lip and nodded. Her hands started shaking and Bill had to put his hand over hers to keep them steady.

"I'm a despicable person," she mumbled, drops of tears plopping on the table. "I think I'm gonna be sick." She clapped a hand over mouth as she fought the urge to gag.

Bill pressed his free hand on her bare shoulder. He felt her flinch but she didn't make any further move to push him away.

"I'll take you back to your room."

Sookie started shaking her head but Bill was persistent as he wrapped his fingers around her elbow and pulled her up from the chair.

"I can't pass through the casino lookin' like this," she whispered, grabbing her bulging handbag off the table.

"We'll go through the private offices' corridor. We can take the elevator from there," Bill assured. Sookie seemed to had burned out the last of her fuel as she answered with a stiff nod.

With his hand at the small of her back he guided her to the concealed hallway where Russell's office was located across from Bill's. They were only a few feet away from the elevators when Sookie halted and bent over as she made a stomach-churning gagging sound.

"Shit!" Bill muttered under his breath so as not to draw attention from the two guards who were posted at both ends of the hallway.

"I'm not gonna make it," Sookie grumbled, clutching the middle of her dress tightly, while her other hand grabbed onto Bill's shoulder for support.

Bill looked around. There were no public restrooms nearby. Only private ones installed inside the offices. Apprehension crossed his features and Sookie bent even lower and cupped her hand over her mouth.

Unless he wanted to bathe in vomit, he had to get Sookie inside his office. Without another thought he pulled his keycard from his pocket and swiped it across the electronic lock before he punched in his four-digit code.

"Hold it, please, hold it," he hushed as he ushered her inside his lavish bureau. Goddamned her for her inability to hold her liquor, he thought in dismay. He just had his office refurnished because it originally belonged to Victor. Bill's office was in the Grand and it was a lot smaller than this. It would be a shame if Sookie spew her dinner all over his new carpet. He led her to the large toilet and bath that was the same as the one in the suites upstairs sans the tub. What could he say, Russell knew how to spoil his loyal staff.

Sookie dashed to the comfort room and slammed the door behind her. Bill sat behind his mahogany desk as he waited for Sookie. He couldn't really blame her, it was a rough night. He was fixing his charcoal blazer, which was crumpled when Sookie held onto him earlier when his cell phone buzzed once again.

It was the guard who had informed him of Thalia's demise earlier. The sentry, who Bill only knew by his last name because it was protocol to state their surnames every time they addressed a higher-up, went on to tell him that the paramedics had arrived and had performed CPR on Thalia but it was sadly too late. (Too bad Thalia. Not so much for Sookie.) The lead paramedic had already pronounced Thalia dead from heart attack but they would still need to take her body to the hospital to be looked at by the trauma team as part of the EMTs protocol.

"That's very unfortunate," Bill said, trying to summon enough distress in his voice. He went to the bathroom door and knocked. He heard Sookie make another retching sound and he stepped away quickly.

Thompson paused. He must have heard the noise Sookie was making. The guard went on to relay the medic's request for Thalia's health record that Bill could easily get from human resources' office located at the west wing of the hotel. They also wanted to know if the hospital could get her personal information just in case she had made special arrangement for her remains.

"I will bring it to the hospital immediately. Where are they taking her?" he asked through the line.

Thalia would be taken to St. Mary's, which would explain the quick response by the EMTs considering it was the hospital closest to the Strip.

Bill ended the call and tried knocking on Sookie's door again. No response. He gripped the slim handle and turned it. Pushing the door in gently, he peered inside. His own dinner threatened to resurface when he saw the mess Sookie had made on the floor. It strongly resembled the lobster bisque he just had in the hotel restaurant earlier that night. He saw her beside the sink, hugging a small towel, her hair disheveled.

"I'm sorry," she said meekly. It was the first nice word she ever said to him since she arrived at the Mandalay. "I'll clean it up."

Bill pushed the door all the way in as he extended his arm to her. "Don't mind that. I'll call housekeeping." He offered her a tiny smile. One she returned with a little hesitation.

"Any news from Thalia?" she asked hoarsely, throwing the towel over the small puddle of vomit beside the toilet bowl.

"I have to go to the hospital to give them her personal information."

She bit her lower lip before she stole a quick glance at the framed wall mirror in front of her. "Do you need to leave right away? I wanna make myself a bit presentable before I head out. If you don't mind?" she slurred.

He was stunned. She was being polite. Gone was the bitch with absolutely no filter. And he found himself powerless to say no.

He bobbed his head. "I'll have to make a quick run at the records' office to get Thalia's files. I'll send someone to escort you back to your room."

Sookie knew the sentry he was going to send wasn't tasked to guard her. He would be in the room to keep Bill's belonging guarded _from_ her.

* * *

**E/S**

When all these were done, Sookie would have to remember to send Lafayette a thank-you card along with a big fat check. He, in all his great wisdom, had given her the best piece of advice that had proven useful for tonight's mission.

"_The only person more dangerous than a guy with a roofie, is a girl pretending to be wasted." Sookie recalled how Lala __pointed at __Maudette as his example. "See how she's rubbing her tits at Jason's arm? And how your dumb dumb brother thought he was the one scoring because she'd had way too much margaritas?" Lala closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nah-ah. No one pays too much attention to what a wasted girl does. They could simply blame it on the booze." He shoved Maudette's half-filled cocktail glass to Sookie across the bar and gestured for her to take a sip. The blue-colored drink was as virgin as Sookie. _

She made her way to the bar and checked the small fridge. There was a new batch of mini bottles. She smiled. Sookie wasn't excited because of the freshly-stocked booze. They would go straight to the drain just like the others. She was more concerned with the fresh paper coasters that came along with them.

Grabbing her dark brown eyeshadow inside her red pouch, she started brushing the coaster with the shimmery powder. And like magic, a message appeared. She picked up her purse from the carpet, along with the square paper coaster, and made her way to the bathroom. Plucking a stick from the complimentary matchbook, she set the coaster on fire and dropped it in the porcelain sink. She took out two long and slim shampoo containers from that fit inside her pouch perfectly. It still had bits of shredded tomatoes and a tiny sliver of lobster meat inside from the soup she had filled them with only to spill all over Bill's pristine bathroom. If Bill weren't so vain, he would have noticed that everything from Sookie's perfectly-timed breakdown in front of his office up to the spilled lobster bisque on his marble tiles were staged.

She washed the bottles clean and threw it in the bin beside the toilet bowl before she stepped into the tub and took a long warm bath.

Blasting her hair with the warm air from the blow dryer, she heard another set of knocks on her door. She tightened the robe sash around her waist before she dashed to the door and peeked through the fish eye.

Bill, the backstabbing, Compton.

With a deep breath to summon drunken Sookie back, she pulled the door open.

"I need to go back to the hospital," was his form of greeting. She cocked her eyebrow at him drooping her eyes slightly for the inebriated effect. "Pam's in the hospital, demanding to see Thalia's body."

"What?" she snapped, knotting her brows together. "How did she find out so fast?"

"Nora probably gave her the tip. The woman would do anything to get back together with Eric." Bill spat Eric's name with such abhorrence that a flick of spit left the side of his mouth.

"That bitch is next on my hitlist," Sookie hissed as she twisted back to walk inside her room. "Gimme five minutes to get dressed." Then she slammed the door on Bill's face.

* * *

**E/S**

Sookie was still swaying a little as they walked side by side along the well-lighted hallway of the hospital wing that would lead them to the morgue. Bill draped an arm to support her as he led her to the nurses' station in the middle of the long and almost empty corridor.

Almost empty.

Their steps halted when they spotted the familiar leggy blonde leaning over the counter of the nurses' station. Pam was just as impeccable as Sookie remembered. She was wearing white fitted slacks, black tube top and white blazer while Sookie went for a yellow spaghetti strap sundress.

Sookie was still trying to muster enough strength to face her old friend when the leggy blonde snapped her head toward them. Her tear-stricken face twisted into one of abject fury at the sight the two Southerners a few feet from where she was standing.

Her red pumps clicked furiously against the white-tiled floor that reeked of disinfectant as she rushed toward Bill and Sookie, her murderous glare directed solely at the girl with the yellow dress.

"How could you?" she whisper-hissed when she was only a foot away from the Southerners. "She had done nothing but help you time and time again and this is how you repay her?"

"Pam," Sookie choked, reaching out to the furious blonde.

"Don't Pam me," she exploded, taking a step away from Sookie. "You're dead to me. To _us_."

The seething blonde aimed her vicious glare at Bill then back at Sookie before she let out a mocking snort. "You two deserve each other." With that parting shot Pam walked away from them as she careened to the automatic glass doors of the hospital wing.

Sookie grabbed onto Bill's arm before she buried her face on his shoulder.

"Russell already made the call. Thalia's remains will be cremated as soon as possible. There's nothing they could do to incriminate you," Bill whispered while patting her back.

She sobbed for a few more seconds before she raised her head to him. Streaks of black mascara ran down her cheeks. Swatting her tears away, she reached inside her sling bag for a small pack of tissues.

"You have…" Bill said waving his finger across his face.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, dabbing her cheeks dry. "Can I?" she asked while turning her head from side to side in search of the restroom.

A man in dark blue scrubs, who was flipping the pages from his clipboard, strolled beside them. He had a scrub cap on his head - keeping his unruly dark brown hair in place - that was the same shade as his uniform. He also had a facial mask covering the lower half of his face.

"Excuse me, can you point me to the nearest CR?" Sookie asked, tapping the man at his bicep. The man nodded before he pointed at the corridor behind Sookie with a small wooden toothpick between his fingers. "Make a left after the third door."

Sookie mouthed a short, "thanks" to the man who went inside the room that had the word MORGUE scribbled in bold letters on top of the light blue double doors.

"I'll get Thalia's personal effects and then I'll meet you out front just in case Pam comes back," Bill told her with a soft clap on her back.

Without another word, Sookie made her way into the restroom. Locking the door behind her, she walked to the counter of sinks and turned on the tap. She grabbed the edge of the tiled counter while her other hand splashed cold water on her face. She was dabbing her face dry with her silk handkerchief when the middle stall swung open. Lifting her head, she fixed her gaze on the mirror.

A pair of intense blue eyes stared back at her. He was gripping the spine of the cubicle door, watching her as she straightened her back and slowly turned around to face him.

The air was charged with unspoken vehemence and for a few seconds they just stood there in silence.

His lips pulled at the side ever so gently, revealing the smirk she had not seen for the longest time. "Well played, Stackhouse."

She mirrored his smirk. "Touche, Northman."

Then as though someone had pulled the trigger on the starting pistol, Eric lunged at her and mounted her on top of the damp counter. "I missed you so damn much," he husked as he pressed his forehead against hers while his hands scrambled to touch every inch of her exposed neck, "and I'm going to break all of Bill's fingers for touching you."

She gasped as she tried to catch Eric's moving lips. This wasn't the time to be hyperverbal. Couldn't he feel how much she wanted him to kiss her?

"Please, Eric. We don't have much time," she begged, slanting her head and darting her tongue out to moisten her lips.

"Let that fucker wait," he growled as he peppered her face with lush, open-mouthed kisses.

"Jeez please, don't have a quickie while I'm here." A soft accented voice hushed from one of the closed cubicles.

Sookie's eyes widened while Eric simply groaned.

As if on cue, the door of the last cubicle from the door tore open, revealing a small Latina woman with messy hair, big brown eyes and a big coffee stain on her white buttoned-down blouse.

Sookie couldn't help but grin. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss Romero."

Thalia made an exaggerated curtsy before she inched toward the couple. "I think I deserve an award for the best supporting role since I had to play dead for a significant amount of time."

Sookie chuckled. The single most genuine laugh she had in a very long time. "Pam is giving you a run for your money, though. I think she made Bill shit in his pants out there."

Eric wrapped his arms around her and laid his head on top of Sookie's shoulder. "Give it to Pam. She has been practicing her lines all day."

Sookie reached for her sling bag beside the sink and began fishing for two glass vials inside. "Does anyone order liquid B?" she crooned as she held the vials up.

"I'll take that," Thalia offered, stabbing her hand in the air to get the drugs. "I'll have the DEA process it as soon I get out of town."

"Can you get out now?" Eric asked in a frustrated tone, "I have something urgent I need to discuss with my newest spy."

Thalia rolled her eyes. "Pam warned me about this. You are both shameless."

Sookie would have laughed if it weren't for Eric's mouth latching onto hers.

Yes, no one would question the motives of a wasted girl. Luckily, Bill Compton hadn't taken the time to have a little chat with Lafayette. If he had, he would have known there was nothing more dangerous than a girl pretending to be drunk.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric. **

**Want to know how they pulled off the Longshadow Job? **

**A special shout out to treewitch who enlightened me about the perks of the blonde roast.**

**Love, love!**


	47. Chapter 47

"_Two weeks. One month, tops."_ The spoken promise still rang in his ears as he trudged back inside the North.

Fuck.

He plucked out a set of rules from memory: The rule of threes.

Three minutes without air. Three days without water. Three weeks without food. _Certain death_.

Sookie wasn't his air or water or food. But she might as well be.

Not three minutes had passed since he watched a cab steal her away and he could already feel the coldness seep in his now empty palm where her hand had been.

"Come to think of it, you'd be able to see me and I won't," she husked, pouting her lips in that damning way that made him want to grab the back of her neck and kiss her senseless. "It's not really fair."

They stood side by side in the elevator that would take them to the back entrance of the North where her taxi was waiting to take her back to the Mandalay. He bit back the lump in his throat as he locked eyes with her through their reflection that bounced off the shiny metal plate of the elevator doors. "None of this is fair."

She didn't reply. What could she possibly say to make it a little less painful? Absolutely nothing.

With a ding and a soft thud, the elevator doors parted.

She turned to him, lifting their entwined hands to her lips and kissed the back of his hand. He wanted to pull her flush against his chest, tell her he wasn't the damn Pope or the Queen of fucking England and give her the kiss he so rightfully deserved. He didn't do it, though. It would only make their separation – no matter how temporary – harder than it already was.

"I'll be back soon, I promise."

He dipped his head and pressed his lips on her forehead. "Don't take too long," was his muffled reply. "I'm not as patient as you think." _Not when it comes to you_, he added silently.

Lost in a fog of his own thoughts, he didn't realize he was already inside the security center until he heard Sam cuss between his teeth.

Darting his eyes to the wide monitor in front of him, his gaze immediately darkened.

Showing on the screen was the woman that never wandered out of his head followed by the man who was giving Eric homicidal tendencies.

_Compton._

Eric didn't say a word. No hiss of profanity. No clenched fists. No evil eye. But as Sam whisked his head to look up at Eric from his swivel chair, his skin instantly went cold. If Bill Compton loved his life he wouldn't take another step toward Sookie.

"Walk away, dickhead," Eric heard Sam whisper.

'_Yes, dickhead. Walk away,'_ was Eric's silent warning.

But it seemed dickheads didn't have ears. Or any sense of self-preservation at all.

Bill didn't turn around like he was supposed to when they reached her door. The fuckwad did the opposite as he leaned languidly at the wall beside her. As though Bill could sense Eric's hateful glare, the bastard decided to taunt the Viking even more by taking a step closer to her. Bill's crooked lips were moving, probably whispering the same old bullshit and Eric could see Sookie pressing herself to the door, hiding her face from the camera, knowing full well he would be watching.

She was hiding. From him!

Eric cursed under his breath. He had seen enough.

"Get the car," Eric ordered Roman behind him without taking his eyes off the monitor. Fuck the mission. She would not spend another night within enemy lines.

The Grecian security's hand was already clutching the door handle when Sam blurted, "Wait, Roman! Look!" Sam pointed at the screen. Sookie had already disappeared into her suite while Bill seemed to be deliberating whether to knock on her door or do the sensible thing and leave her alone.

Fortunately for everyone, Bill made the right choice as he walked back to the metal box that would take him back to wherever hellhole he belonged.

Sam heaved a sigh of relief. He twisted his chair around to face Eric and Roman. In one fleeting glance Sam and Roman exchanged a single thought: _That was too damn close_.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric stared blankly at the thick folder in front of him. A compilation of charts, graphs, numbers and texts did not make a lick of sense to him.

"The renovation in the Regent's almost done. It'll be ready for reopening next week," Pam said trying to get his attention.

The days when he was lusting over Queen Regent seemed like two lifetimes ago. Who would need a Regent when he could have the real Queen?

He picked up the folder and passed it over to Pam, who was sitting across from him as he sat behind his desk in his office at the North. "Postpone the opening until Sookie returns."

Because she _would_ return. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later, though. This waiting game was wearing him down.

Pam nodded. She knew about Operation Raven 2.0 and like Eric she was always on edge as they waited for the white smoke from the Mandalay.

"What's the update on Nora?" he asked Pam.

Her lips curved into a sly leer as she took her mobile tablet from the desk and started skating the pad of her index finger across the touchpad. "I have her flight details here. She'll be in Vegas the day after tomorrow."

As much as he disliked the idea of having Nora back in town, it was a necessary evil.

"Go through the script with Barry again. Tell him to ask Nora for money in exchange for the information."

Barry Horowitz was the bellhop that Nora paid off to divulge Eric's suite number when she was in the North a month ago. The insolent room attendant was still sweating a puddle every time he and Eric crossed paths in the North and the Viking was certain Barry would do anything humanly possible to get back in his good graces.

Pam gathered her things from the table and nodded before she spun on her heel and left the office.

With a jerk of his leg, he swiveled his chair around. Running his fingers through his hair, he sank into his black leather chair as his mind zoomed back to two nights ago.

* * *

_"The key to a perfect bluff wasn't from pretending you had a stronger hand. It was by showing your opponent your weakness," he whispered conspiratorially while the pad of his thumb was busy tracing figure eights on her bare thighs under the blanket. "The trick lies on how you manipulate your own weakness to work in your favor."_

_They were back on the bed. His back against the headrest, her back against his chest. He could see the top of her breasts heaving every time she breathed and the view was nothing short of magnificent._

_Sookie tilted her head slightly to the side, giving him wide access to her neck. He ran the tip of his nose along her creamy skin as he memorized her scent. Her arms hooked around his biceps and for a minute he wondered who was holding who._

_Corbett had the right idea ten years ago when he decided to let Russell take possession of him. It was a good idea with very bad execution. Unlike Sookie, Corbett didn't have a clear endgame in mind. His only aim was to stay afloat for his children. Sookie, on the other hand, was aiming for the jugular. She had what her father never had: _The perfect partner-in-crime_._

_"We know one thing. Russell is grooming his heir. He's old school so even if you're the one with the skills, you won't be his first choice, which makes your dad and Jason safe at least for a while."_

_"I know. That's why I need to make myself indispensable. But we have to take Michele out first," Sookie said, finishing his sentence._

_Eric nodded. "She's expendable. It'll only be a matter of time before he uses her as bargaining chip. I know I would."_

_"And Thalia too. Nora knows about her. Dad told me that Nora's the one dealing for Russell in Europe after you sent Michael to prison."_

_Eric caught her earlobe with his teeth and bit it softly. "How do you propose we do that?" he murmured._

_"I need to get inside his circle. We know what that entails."_

_It wasn't science. Anyone who knew Russell well enough could tell them, the price of admission in Edgington's inner circle was life itself. That was the one thing her father couldn't do. He was righteous enough not to succumb to something that vile._

_"I'll give him Thalia in exchange for Michele. I'll even offer to take her out myself," Sookie stated matter-of-factly as her foot teased the length of Eric's long leg. "But I'll need your help to pull the Lazarus trick on Thalia, of course."_

_Eric fell silent, even his teasing had ceased. Sookie tilted her head up to see if he had fallen asleep._

_He hadn't. His dark blond eyebrows merged as he bit his thumb. It was a classic Northman scheming look._

_"No." He shook his head after a while. "Don't offer anything. It'll make him suspicious. He's way too paranoid to fall for it. He probably had you and Jason profiled for years. Your dad had fought him for a decade. He'll be expecting the same resistance from you."_

_Her lips parted then sealed again. That logic was difficult to negate._

_"Let him come to you. Make him believe it was his idea to force you to take out Thalia. When he feels that he has you backed into a corner that's when you start making demands for Michele," he explained. "The snitch has to be someone on his payroll. Someone whose loyalty had already been bought and wouldn't mind throwing you under the bus."_

_"Bill?"_

_"Nora."_

_She let out a grunt. "I hate that bitch!"_

_It was too late for him catch the smirk of satisfaction from his lips._

_Even when she wasn't looking directly at him she could feel him basking in her jealousy toward the deplorable brunette. Pulling out of his grasp she twisted halfway to shoot daggers at him while clutching the beige silk blanket to cover her naked bosoms._

_'_Prude_.' _

_"What?" he asked innocently, tucking one hand under the back of his head._

_"You know what."_

_His smile grew wider._

_"You're enjoyin' this, aren't you?"_

_"Jealousy doesn't really become you." _But I love to see it every once in a while_, he mused._

_"I'm not jealous!" she denied. "I just don't trust her. Her obsession with you is bringin' out the nasty in me."_

_He was evil. Positively evil, for liking the way her nose wrinkle in disgust by the mere thought of another woman lusting over him. But times like these were too good and too rare to miss._

_"Can you blame her?" he asked, running his fingers through his tousled hair. "Who wouldn't be obsessed with me?"_

_She stared at him defiantly. "I'm not."_

_He chortled. "Says the girl who sneaks in my room in the middle of the night."_

_A dramatic gasp escaped her. "I'm not obsessed with you. I'm _in love_ with you. There's a difference."_

_The smirk was still hanging at the corner of his mouth, revealing his perfect set of teeth._

_"You," she jabbed a finger at his bare chest, "on the other hand, are obsessed with me."_

_He shrugged. "Baseless speculation."_

_"Baseless?" She tapped a finger on her chin. "Let me see." She raised her thumb. "You stalked me in my apartment." Followed by her pointer-finger. "Then you bought the restaurant I was working in." Her middle finger joined in. "You sent Victor to Sabaneta for threatening me." Her ring finger was having a hard time aligning with the others so she quickly raised her pinkie as she finished with, "and you threw a deposed prince behind bars for trying to kiss me. If that's not obsession I don't know what is."_

_All traces of arrogance on his face had been wiped clean._

_"Do you want me to go through the entire list? Because I have more," she cooed. He glowered and that was all the answer she needed._

_"Fine. I'm obsessed with you," he snapped which instantly made her beam victoriously. "Will you stop gloating?"_

_She didn't. It was her turn to bask in the glory of being Eric Northman's obsession._

_He frowned. He realized he didn't like this game. He didn't like to be called out. He didn't like the vulnerability that came along with admitting he loved her in way that could almost make him combust when she was this near._

_Every now and then he would catch her looking at him with a kind of incredulity that he had seen from her in the past. It was her how-can-you-love-me-this-much look. He would catch her looking and sometimes he would even see the badly disguised girlish smile she didn't want him to notice. What a lousy liar this one is, he thought. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, she was hooked on him, too._

_This much obsession should be illegal._

* * *

**E/S**

"We might have caught a break with Victor," Felipe started when Eric met with him at Tony's townhouse in Summerville. "One of my contacts in Sabaneta overheard him talking to one of his inmates. He's trying to strike a deal to help him break out. It seems our friend is richer than we thought. He had been stealing from Russell by putting the casino money in shadow accounts in Barcelona. The reason Russell hadn't noticed the missing cash is because he was occupied managing his income from the farms."

"Y'mean, Russell's main source of income isn't from his hotels anymore?" Tony slurred as he bit the tip of his unlit cigar before he flicked a long matchstick on the rough surface of the center table to light it.

It wasn't news to Eric anymore. That was why the finale of Operation Raven was cutting off Russell's power source. However if Victor indeed had all of Russell's liquid cash stashed somewhere, it would make it easier for Sookie to go through phase two.

"You haven't heard the best part yet." Felipe let his words hang in the air, waiting for Tony's impatient grunt.

"Go on with it, asshole," Tony groaned.

Felipe grinned. "Bill is working with Victor."

Tony's lips also twisted into a Cheshire grin. "Ooh... Bill Compton just dug his own grave."

"What do you think, Eric?" Tony turned to the Viking. "Shall we go and pick up our thieving friend?"

"His time will come," Eric replied before he stood up from his chair and started buttoning his black blazer. "Have you called Sandy?"

Sandy Sechrest was Edgington's secondary finance director. She was one of the country's top financial analysts but because she was a woman, Russell didn't give her the kind of authority Bill and Victor had over Russell's money.

What most people didn't know was, she was also Felipe's first wife.

"_Si_. Did you know that she threw a cross at me when I went to see her last night?" Felipe relayed, which made Tony chuckle as they both recalled Sandy's reaction after seeing her supposedly dead ex rise from the grave.

Eric waited for the laughter to taper off without cracking a smile. "So. Is she in?" he asked Felipe.

Felipe took a sip of his red wine. "_Si, si_. Sandy's tired of dumbing herself down just so those incompetent bastards don't look like babbling morons. She's in."

"I'll call you when Russell gives me my cheque."

Tony waved his newly lit tobacco above his head, sending wisps of come-hither smoke in the air. "How will you get Edgington to write you a cheque?"

Eric smirked. "Because Sookie will be asking for cash. Russell's first instinct will be to say no to whatever she asks. Especially when it comes to me."

* * *

**E/S**

Eric hated Algebra. When he was in boarding school he couldn't be bothered with the X's and Y's. He even joked that whoever came up with Algebra was a sadist with no life, who was punishing students by mixing letters with numbers.

So he did what every seventh grader with enough resources would do. He cheated. He came up with ways on how to buy and smuggle answers from the resident nerds. That was when he became accustomed to steganography. The art of hiding a message in plain view where only the recipient and the sender would know how to find it.

Since then Algebra (and sometimes Physics, too) was no longer a threat to his social life. Examination days would come and the answers were already etched on his papers, he only had to trace over it.

As he stared at the neatly laid out square paper coasters on his table, he couldn't help but appreciate the variables that led him to teach Sookie the beauty of steganography.

"CJ&M were relocated," she sent him when her father was sent back to Macau.

He answered it with, "Found J&M. Will prepare their travel documents ASAP."

The missives were concise. They would appear twice a day because she could only request for her bar to be refilled twice before Russell would start suspecting her.

"Green at 12. Alert T. Will get sample of B," was her first message for this day.

Nora and Russell had walked right into their trap. He summoned Pam and Sam into his office. Today would be the day they had been preparing for. Thalia would be forced into retirement at midnight with the use of Russell's designer untraceable drug: The liquid B.

It was time to call in the moles. Yes. He had more than one mole holed up in Russell's hotels. They were small-time employees who had been dormant for years, working under the radar. It was time to reboot them.

Malcolm was the first to spring back to life. He was the room service attendant in-charge of checking and replenishing Sookie's bar, who was delivering the paper coasters back and forth to Eric and Sookie. Diane, who worked in the housekeeping section, would also be utilized tonight after Sookie had thrashed Bill's office, she would make sure Sookie did not leave any evidence behind.

And John Thompson, the night guard, who would keep an eye on Thalia before Jake and the clean-up crew could arrive at the Mandalay posing as paramedics. Jake would be the one tasked to haul Thalia out of the hotel and into the hospital.

If Russell or even Bill had only did their research they would have found out that Eric owned one of the wings in St. Mary's hospital. He had an entire cancer ward built in Godric's memoriam after he died seven years ago. It only took one call for Eric to secure a small section of the hospital to help him orchestrate Thalia's supposed death.

"Look for KOH," was her last message.

"I don't understand this?" Sam asked, flipping the coaster. "What does KOH mean?"

Eric knew what KOH stood for. It stood for him. The King of Hearts.

* * *

**E/S**

Even in black she was the brightest thing in a room that practically glittered in every corner.

Even in black she was his beacon, directing him which way to go.

She sat in the table under the spy dome where Eric could see her and her cards. His heart skipped to his throat when he saw her steal a glance at the camera at the ceiling. His cruel spy had been intentionally avoiding the cameras all week. And this was the first time she allowed him a clear view.

"There's Bill." Sam pointed at the shadow behind her.

It reminded him of the first time he saw her. Similarly, she would be working alongside Compton while Eric would be stuck inside his fortress watching her.

It was a gutting experience.

She was tapping her coffee, sending Thalia the message that it was time to play dead. He couldn't help but smile when she bit her lip excitedly when she drew the King of Hearts.

'_I love you, too,'_ he told her telepathically.

A few minutes later she started following Thalia to the café with Bill shadowing her yet again. _'Bastard.'_

His phone went off. He pressed it to his ear but never said a word. The caller wasn't speaking either. At least not to him directly. He could hear a faint murmur of someone frantically barking…

"_Thalia's down."_

"_She's not responsive." _

"_I can't feel any pulse."_

"_What do I do?"_

After a few more seconds, Thompson hung up and Eric did, too. _Message received_.

The red button on one of Sam's control board lit up. The Hawk clipped a Bluetooth to his left ear and pressed the red flashing button.

"Nine-one-one. What's your emergency?" Sam said and it almost made Pam snort out loud. "What's your address?"

A pause. The dialogue was for the benefit of Russell's security team who would be monitoring all outgoing and incoming calls made by the employees on duty.

"We'll send paramedics immediately. Try not to move her body."

A short call to Jake later and Tony's second-in-command boarded their rented ambulance as they made their way to pick up Thalia.

"Here comes Sookie," Sam hushed as he magnified one of the smaller screens that showed the part of the building that required class A keycards.

Eric felt something stir inside him as he watched Bill wrap his reptilian arm around Sookie as she staggered across the hall.

He didn't even realize he was gripping the headrest of Sam's swivel chair tightly until Pam tapped him on the back and whispered, "She's a damn good actress, no?"

Yes. That was right. She was playing a part. But Bill wasn't.

They went inside the office as planned. He counted the seconds. Thompson would call Compton soon.

'_Call goddamit!'_

It had been over five minutes. She couldn't be stuck in that room with that asshat. Anything could happen in a matter of minutes. What if he was forcing himself on her? Touching her in places only Eric was allowed to touch. Kissing her the way only Eric could do. Holding her…

Before Eric could lose all rational thoughts, Bill strolled out of his office, shaking his head from side to side.

An audible sigh escaped Eric's lips and Roman and Pam couldn't help but exchange a look of amusement.

A full minute later, Sam threw both his fists over his head and yelled, "Yes! We're in."

Sookie completed the final phase for tonight's mission. She had planted the microchip in Bill's laptop that gave Sam access to Bill's computer. It was a high-end device that could hack inside the software even if it wasn't turned on. The same technology used by skilled hackers to log into a person's computer to turn the the camera on without the owner's approval.

Russell's casinos were centralized. It was to enable Russell to remotely access and manipulate the turnovers of his gaming machines even when he was not in the country. In other words, Russell was using that technology to control the winnings handed out through his machines. He was robbing the unwitting gamblers who thought that they had a chance against the house.

Fools, Eric thought, the only way to beat the house was to rob it blind.

Sam's fingers tapped the keyboard furiously. Bill's laptop was methodically encrypted with intricate codes. Every file was a minefield. But he was Sam Merlotte. He wasn't called the Hawk for nothing.

In less than five minutes he had Bill's sensitive dossiers captured and filed away. He even had access to both the MGM and the Mandalay's slot machines.

They saw a suited man went inside Bill's office. Eric stiffened again. _'Come on, Sookie, get the hell out of there.'_

Like an answered prayer, Sookie sauntered out of the room with the guard Bill sent in. They made their way to the lift and Eric's gaze quickly scanned the smaller screens in search for the camera assigned on the lift Sookie had occupied. He was holding his breath the entire ride to the 25th floor.

Sookie was bad for his health.

He saw Sam crack his knuckles and heard him yell a string of profanities out of sheer delight.

"Good work, Sam," Eric said, patting Sam's shoulder. It was done. "Start in the MGM. Pick five lucky gamblers and make them fucking millionaires tonight. It's on Russell."

"Shall I send Sookie a message?" Pam asked.

Eric bit his lip, a wicked thought crossing his mind. "Yes. Ask her to meet you in the hospital in an hour. And wear cheap mascara."

He ran his fingers through his hair before he straightened his jacket. He was done watching her. He was going to see her tonight.

Nine days had been far too long.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric. **

**As always, thank you for reading and sending lovely comments! I'm sorry if I haven't been able to reply to those who generously sent me feedback. I was writing this new story that makes me all kinds of nervous. It has a very different premise and it's a bit out there. I didn't post it here because I want those who put me on author alert to have the option in case they didn't want to follow the new story. It can be annoying to get emails for a story you didn't like, right?**

**But if you want to give it a shot, it's under the pen name tabularasa88, entitled Chasing shadows. It should be taken with a grain of salt. **

**Thank you so much! I'll get back to answering reviews, promise!**

**Love, love!**


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N: Anybody here? It's been a while. My apologies. Anyway, this is the continuation of the night of Thalia's fake death. **

* * *

No one could live in the City of Sin for a long time without committing one. And fifty years in the desert made Russell Edgington a faithful sinner.

The body count under his name had piled up like sand dunes in the Mojave. Vindictive as he was, he could name each and every one of them along with their crimes.

Especially his first.

He was seven then. Too naive for such violence but still too young to have an opinion. He was a boorish lad in dire need of guidance. His grandfather, Appius, a man of few words and mean glares jolted him from his sleep with the butt of a double barrel against his shin one very early Sunday morning in March, nearly sixty-four years ago.

"Get your jacket," the old man commanded with a throaty growl. "We're goin' huntin."

Russell rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, knowing it was futile to argue with the brute patriarch.

Appius and Russell, accompanied by two burly male servants, made their way to Booneville in a red flat fender jeep. It was a painstakingly long drive filled with strained silence and tacit commands. The sun was starting to peer over the horizon when they finally reached Prentiss County, his grandfather's favorite hunting spot.

Massive trees surrounded the ground, with streaks of sunlight filtering through the leaves. Crouching on one knee behind a thick bush, Russell geared up for the hunt. It had been almost half an hour and the muscles in his legs were beginning to tighten and prickle. The air was heavy with some leftover winter chill but his forehead was getting clammy from the humidity.

"Stay down, boy," his grandfather hissed beside him when he switched his weight to his other knee.

Russell could sense that they were not alone in the woods. Out of his periphery he spied a glint of red strapped around something that he assumed was a tree trunk. Jerking his head slightly to his right, he confirmed that the suspicious looking trunk was indeed another huntsman.

For a boy of his age, Russell's memory was impeccable, especially when it came to people. He immediately recognized the gunman with the red sash as Fintan Brigant, the recluse who owned the small broiler farm that was competing with the Edgingtons in supplying poultry products in Mississippi. Appius's aversion toward Fintan was not something he kept to himself. He would drone on and on about Fintan's eccentricity every possible chance he had. Mississippi belonged to the Edgingtons, their family should never allow some oddball from Nashville do business in their territory.

That probably explained why Appius had chosen a hiding spot perpendicular to Fintan's. He must have spotted Fintan early on and he decided to turn Russell's supposed first hunt into a shooting contest.

A scuffling sound in front of him shook Russell back into focus. With the questionable strength of his aching limbs, he tightened his grip around the barrel as he positioned it in the direction of the noise.

'_Well, hello there, Bambi,'_ he mused as he locked in on the hefty, doe-eyed deer that was galloping toward them, blissfully oblivious to the predators aiming for its head.

From Russell's position, he had a clear shot of the deer. The only problem was he didn't have the best angle. Fintan did.

"If you miss this, boy, you'll be walking back home, y'understand?" Appius muttered in his deep, tobacco-scratched voice. Russell gulped knowing all too well it wasn't an empty threat. Empty threats were like blank bullets, they were useless to an Edgington.

He clenched his jaw, his cheek pressing hard against the smooth stock of the shotgun. He tipped his right shoulder forward to support the weight of the gun and to keep it from shaking.

"Not like that, boy," Appius hissed - his stale breath making Russell's nostrils flare. "You don't aim, you point. With a target that big, you shoot with your instinct. And don't hold your breath. It'll weaken you. You gotta breathe as you squeeze."

Russell wanted to nod his comprehension to silence the unbearable old man. But that would make him lose his perfect stance.

His chest heaved as he hooked his finger around the trigger. He spied Fintan soundlessly inching closer to the same target. Russell knew that when it boiled down to a single shot, he would be terribly outgunned.

With a pause too quick to time, Russell pulled the trigger. The thunderclap of the gunshot rang in his ear and for a moment the entire forest went mute. With the momentary loss of his auditory sense, he could only watch as one of their guards sprung out of the bush behind him and darted forward.

Appius grabbed him by the collar and shook him. The shotgun fell on the damp, verdant floor with a muffled thud as his grandfather stared at him in disbelief. For what seemed like a very long time Appius was rendered speechless. His grip around Russell's shirt loosened and the old man tugged the frail young boy into a crushing embrace.

Before Russell could return the gesture his grandfather shoved him away and propelled him to turn around and trudge back to the place where they had parked their jeep. Appius slapped his back like a stubborn horse when he paused to look over his shoulder.

A couple of gunshots reverberated through the trees and Russell almost jumped back if it weren't for Appius's yellowed nails, digging into his shoulder, compelling him to keep walking.

Steeling himself, he took one last look at his prey.

There he was - Russell's first kill - jackknifed against the trunk of the tree with his head drooping to his chest. The middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a ridiculous red sash draped over his shoulder.

The red sash that was meant to warn other huntsmen of his presence had been the ring of bull's eye that gave Russell a clean shot. Rich crimson blood gushed out of the hole in his chest where the bullet pierced him, claiming his life. The shots fired by one of their loyal servants were for the deer who tried to flee from the scene of the crime.

It had been a chaotic week for the Edgingtons after that fateful morning as Elrond and Appius worked hard to cover up the murder of Fintan Brigant and erase every record of the man's existence. The eccentricity of the reclusive Fintan helped the Edgingtons cause. With Fintan out of the picture, the Edgingtons managed to monopolize the poultry business in Mississippi.

Little did they know that Russell, as a way of paying homage to his first victim, had named his alter ego after Fintan.

Russell's life changed irrevocably after that day. He realized what kind of person he would be. He would be a hunter, who wouldn't hesitate to eliminate the competition when it came to his prize. When his grandfather asked him why he killed the other huntsman, Russell stared at Appius without a trace of remorse on his unsmiling face.

"Why waste a bullet on a miserable prey when I can have it all by getting rid of the man who stands in my way?"

As Russell stared at the wide plasma screen hanging on the wall of his private office in his Carson City mansion, he couldn't help but feel a surge of pride ballooning inside him. It took him a long time to recognize the emotion he saw on his grandfather that spring day of 1951.

It was unadulterated ecstasy. He should know because it was the kind of elation he was feeling while he watched Susannah orchestrate the murder of Thalia Romero.

After all the years wasted on Corbett, he finally found an heir worthy of his name. A hunter, just like him.

* * *

**E/S**

She knew it was rude to stare. Years of preaching from her gran taught her that.

'_A lady never stares.'_

But she couldn't help it. She had to stare. It was the only way she could memorize how he moves, how his lips curve, how his chest rise and fall with every breath, how soft strands of hair fall to the side of his face making him look less intense. He was still beautiful, though. That went without saying. The man could scrunch his nose in grimace and he would still be an exquisite specimen. It wasn't really fair how she won him over without even trying. Well, who was she to question God's intent. He was hers. No takesies, no backsies. Anyone who dared take him from her would have to scale the walls of one Sookie Stackhouse.

She reached for his hand and entwined her fingers with his. She was still staring at him while he was giving Thalia instructions on how to strike a deal with the DEA using their sample of the liquid B. He was in his zone and she couldn't help but admire his Jedi mind tricks. (Damn it, she was such a nerd.) The skin on his forehead folded and she fought the urge to smooth them with a touch. His long fingers ran through his hair, pushing back the loose strands off his temple. She wished he didn't do that. Because it was only when he wasn't so perfect that she could forget all her imperfections. Only then she could comprehend the thought of actually having him. Or that he actually wanted her.

It didn't matter how many times he would tell her - _convince_ _her_ - that he was hers for the taking.

"… _you won't be an Edgington anymore, or a Stackhouse. You'll be a Northman. You'll be mine, because in case you haven't noticed, Sookie, I'm already yours."_ Damn, he was good. He should never be allowed to speak in public.

"_I'm going to hold you to that,"_ had been her feeble reply. His lips hitched in the corner, suppressing a grin, and she knew she had to kiss him to hide the blazing of her cheeks or the tears pricking her eyes.

Yes. She had to stare. Because she didn't know how long he could be with her this time. She knew she couldn't stay long. Bill was waiting outside for her along with the rest of their fucked-up world. They would have to wait, though. A few more minutes would suffice. God, she wished Thalia would stop with her questions. For someone who was supposed to be dead she was very inquisitive.

Sookie, who was still perched on top of the tiled countertop, crossed her dangling legs. Eric reflexively clamped a hand on her knee and she repressed a shudder at the contact. Her eyes landed on his when he shot her a fleeting glance.

She loved his eyes most of all. They reminded her of the light blue dress she was wearing when they first met at the North. And the clear blue sky that welcomed her in her first and only trip to the Grand Canyon.

She almost sighed. That trip was one for the books. She could still recall how she gushed like a kid, admiring the view from such height.

"_The forecast was actually cloudy with a chance of rain."_ His tone was light and teasing. Then he leaned in added, _"I only parted the clouds for you."_ She looked away and cursed the blush that had taken residence on her cheeks that blistering, sunny day.

She must have been telegraphing her thoughts when all of a sudden his eyes were glued on hers as he asked, "You okay?" And just like that she was snapped out of her trance.

Sookie blinked rapidly, surprised to find two concerned faces staring back at her.

'_Oh, fudge.'_

"Beg pardon?" she feigned ignorance.

"You're staring," Eric pointed out, a phantom smile touching his lips.

She jutted her chin. "So? Don't tell me you're not used to being gawked at by women." She was defensive and she hated her lack of guile.

He chuckled, turning to face her, his hands snaking around her waist. "Women, yes. You, no," he quipped with a childlike delight as he leaned in closer, the tip of his nose almost touching hers.

She huffed dismissively to save face. She writhed out of his grasp but Eric locked his hands on her hips before he slanted his head to seize her lips. Her arms, acting purely out of instinct, found their way around his neck to pull him closer. Arching her back, she molded her body into his and his groan of approval made her shiver. _Finally_, she thought, _I have your attention_.

His hands scanned the topography of her back and she could feel the shallow lines on the map of his palm against her skin. One hand slid to her nape, long fingers disappearing into her hair, holding her in place. A stern warning that he would never let go. Not anytime soon. She had no problem with that.

Eric nipped her lip when she tried to pull away.

"Not – So – Fast," he mumbled in her mouth, making her smile against his lips.

A delicious tremor ran through her body, her skin tingling from the contact, and she couldn't help but sigh.

'_I missed you so, so much,'_ she wanted to tell him. But that would be a waste of time. She was certain he already knew. And this wasn't the time for mush. There would be plenty for that later after they dealt with the nuisance that was Russell Edgington.

The gentle shudder inside Eric's pants made her yelp. It was his phone, silently vibrating in his pocket, and it was like a douse of ice cold water, kicking Sookie back to the reality curb.

Her head rolled back in muted frustration. Eric, on the other hand, had no intention of disguising his annoyance with a barely repressed growl. He fished for his phone as she pushed him away gently, resting her head on his shoulder. Clasping her fingers over her wrist, she caged him, keeping her arms around his neck. Like him, she wasn't ready to detach herself from him completely. She doubted if she ever could. His Adam's apple bobbed as he pressed his lips together into a thin line. She caught a glimpse of the caller ID. Pam's image popped on the screen and she heard him curse under his breath. There was only one reason why Pam would call: _Bill_.

"I should go," she whispered begrudgingly, lifting her head to look him square in the eyes. "Russell will want update from the morgue."

His jaw twitched. She took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "We're almost at the homestretch. One last push," she reminded him. Eric remained sullen and she decided it was time to segue. "Anything on Jase and Mitch?"

The darkness lifted at once and Sookie wondered if she had missed something. He straightened up and pulled out a neatly folded stack of white tissue papers from his pocket. She threw him a quizzical look.

"Open it," he said with an excited grin. She hurriedly unfolded the tissue squares as carefully as her trembling fingers would allow. Her heart skipped when she immediately recognized Jason's sloppy handwriting on the thin squares.

"_COUNT ME IN." _

"_I CAN DO IT."_

"_CHEEKS, OK?"_

They were all written in bold letters. That was why she was certain they were from Jason. He always used upper casing when writing notes. It was Jason's way of bidding for attention. Her eyes lingered on Jason's last message. _'Cheeks, OK?'_ He had never used that nickname in almost a decade. An unseen string pulled at something inside her, making her heart swell with myriad emotions. She bit back the thought and swallowed it hard. She had no time for melancholia.

"How?" she asked, bewildered.

Eric shrugged nonchalantly as though the answer should be pretty obvious. "When you told me Jason and Michele were taken out of the Mandalay, I asked Sam to pull all surveillance on the Grand and the Aria for the past 24 hours."

"Why Aria? Russell doesn't own that hotel, does he?" Sookie asked as she started folding the tissue squares delicately.

It was Thalia who answered for Eric. "No, Sookie, Russell doesn't own the Aria. But Peter Threadgill - one of Russell's known associates - has an entire floor to his name."

Sookie nodded at Thalia before turning her focus back to Eric. "So Jase and Mitch are there?"

Eric bobbed his head. "Russell isn't keeping them in the same room, though," he replied. Sookie lowered her gaze, feeling a pang of sympathy for her brother and his wife. There was no limit as to what Russell would do to shorten the lifespan of Jason and Michele's union.

"I have a sleeper cell working the Aria. Pam managed to pull Jason's billing records," he declared. "Can you guess what your brother has been up to?"

Sookie was curious alright, but first things first. "How many sleeper cells do you have?"

"It's essential for me to have eyes and ears everywhere," was his cocky reply.

"What makes you so sure Russell doesn't have moles planted in your hotels, too?" Sookie shot back.

"_Our_ hotels," he corrected her, drilling her with a look that dared her to argue. Sookie dropped her eyes and bit her lips in chagrin. Eric smirked in satisfaction. "Oh, I know I'm being watched too. That's why we keep Operation Raven as covert as possible. Everything is on a need-to-know basis."

Sookie visibly relaxed. "Oh. Okay," she conceded. "So, what about Jason?"

"You know he's sexually active, yes?"

Her eyes widened. "Don't tell me he's gettin' escorts!?"

Eric chuckled. "No. Give him some credit. In their current situation I don't think he'll be cheating on Michele anytime soon."

Sookie breathed out an audible sigh. "Then what is it?"

"Porn," Eric quipped, his smirk blooming into a mischievous grin. "Your horny sibling is ordering a bunch of pay-per-view porn."

Thalia chortled and Sookie could feel her face getting flushed. Leave it to her brother to satisfy his primordial needs with visual aids.

"Sam tapped into Jason's room and now Pam's supplying him his daily porn." Sookie winced as she imagined the kind of home movies Pam had at her disposal - some S&M action from the Red Cavern, perhaps?

Eric rushed in to fill her with all the minute details on how they were able to communicate with Jason through the smutty films. The first message was, _"We have a plan, are you in? – Horny Matchstick."_ Sookie chuckled as she recalled the night in Bon Temps when Jason tagged them as two horny matchsticks. The nickname was to make sure Jason would know it was from Eric in case his guards accidentally read the missive.

The string of words would run at the bottom of the screen every 30 minutes and once more in the middle of the credits, Eric explained. Along with the message was a detailed instruction on how Jason could send his response to Eric. Their initial attempt was a bust when they didn't receive a reply from Jason the following day. So was their second try. Three proved to be Jason's lucky number when he finally came through with a succinct, _"Count me in,"_ on their third stab.

Russell, suffering from a major case of paranoia, didn't trust anyone who wasn't on his payroll to interact with Jason or Michele. Therefore, the guards tasked to keep watch on Jason would escort him out of the room at noon just in time for the young Asian woman with a waif-like figure to step in to change his sheets and toiletries.

The housekeeper, Quianna Wong, would march inside the bathroom and take the toilet paper roll and replace it with a new one. Before Quianna would leave the en-suite bath, she would spin the tissue roll around her hand until she reached the 23rd square where Jason had written his reply.

"If Russell honors his word and let Michele go in the next few days, we'll send Jason another missive," Eric finished with a smug expression. "I promised you we'll get him out. And we will."

All she could muster was a watery smile. Her vision was getting blurry and she could only blame the tears biting her eyes. The rush of relief and gratitude formed a tidal wave of emotion battering her chest and she could only blame the man standing in front of her. She was certain that if she opened her mouth no word would come out without sounding like a whimper.

Grabbing him by the back of his neck she pulled him in for another kiss. One that Eric had no trouble returning.

She didn't care that Thalia was watching. She didn't care that Bill was waiting. She didn't care for all the imminent threat outside the four walls of the restroom as she poured everything she wanted to tell him in a single gesture.

Eric didn't seem to mind that they had an audience either as he tried to keep up with the momentum she set.

Her mind was in a messy jumble. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. _'Thank you for taking care of me and the people I love like no one else did,'_ was off the top of her head.

This time, he was the first to pull away. He ran the pad of his thumb over her wet, swollen lip, while resting his forehead over hers. "If I had known you'd get this excited over porn, I would have used it on you sooner."

She smiled. Oh, he got her message alright. And that was enough. "Is there anything you can't do, Mr. Northman?" she asked with genuine admiration hidden under a thin veil of flippancy.

His lips curved into a haughty smirk. "You. Right now. I _so_ want to do you right now, Stackhouse."

She pinched the side of his waist playfully and she could practically hear Thalia rolling her eyes at them.

"I also have good news," Sookie chirped, changing the topic before Thalia could point out the huge block of cheese in the room. "I cracked Russell's tell. As expected he has a good poker face. He's always composed. But like everyone else, he has a tick. You'll be able to tell he's lying when he tugs his ear." She pinched her left earlobe. "Left is truth," then touched the soft spine of her right ear, "right is bull."

Eric seemed thoroughly fascinated as his smirk bloomed into a toothy grin. "Left is truth, right is bull," he echoed. "Got it."

"Why do you need to know if Russell has a tell?" Thalia asked, quirking her brow in befuddlement, leaning against the narrow column that separated the cubicle from the next one.

Eric and Sookie exchanged a look. It was one of those looks that Sookie was sure others found extremely irritating. Like they were sharing an inside joke while ostracizing other people from their bubble.

Thalia cursed in a foreign language as she waited for an answer.

Eric cocked his head to the side, glancing over his shoulder so he wouldn't have to turn his body away from Sookie. "Because, Miss Romero," he drawled, "we are going to pull another trick on Edgington."

"And that is?" Impatience was thick in her tone.

Sookie smirked, throwing Eric another knowing glance, before she trained her eyes on the Latina. "For the final act, we will make Russell's money disappear."

Thalia lips parted in astonishment before she beamed at the insufferable couple. "_That_ is one magic trick, I would pay to see."

Sookie grinned before she wrapped her arms around Eric's middle, clasping her fingers together. She leaned forward and gave his lips a chaste but lingering kiss. "I'll see you soon, okay? And don't you dare sleep with Nora," she warned with a whisper of levity, knowing for a fact that it was an implausible notion.

Eric snorted derisively. "Why would I need Nora when I have Mrs. Palmer to keep me company?" He lifted his right hand and curled his fingers loosely.

Sookie and Thalia burst out laughing. Their laughter ceased abruptly when Thalia's phone buzzed in her jacket pocket. Eric and Sookie stiffened at the subdued buzz.

"Uh-oh. Pam said Bill's coming back inside," Thalia relayed the text message as she stared at the screen.

Sookie let out a puff of air. If only she had the ability to freeze time. "Help me get down?" Her hands slid off his waist and gave his arms light taps.

His face softened as he gazed at her in a way that made her heart sink to her gut. He was giving her the kicked puppy dog's eyes. The one look he wouldn't show anyone but her. His lips thinned into a sad line and it was making her feel like the most nefarious villain on earth for making him miserable.

But he wasn't done torturing her.

His thumb snuck beneath her chin, locking his eyes on hers. "I love you," was his sucker punch. It was spoken so softly, barely audible, that if she wasn't so close to him she would have missed it. It was so organic, so raw and it almost made her weep. She knew he wasn't one for grand declarations. So was she.

She supposed that was their thing. Their relationship wasn't an epic kind of love story that romance novels were made of. The grand love affair that started at first sight. The fairy tale that lulled children to sleep. The one with the spark and the fireworks that inspired country songs.

But it was damn close.

* * *

**A/N: TB, not mine. Eric, I wish.**

**Fluff! Don't hate me. I'm almost done with the next chapter. I'll try to post it sooner. Sorry for the wait… I've been bad. Thank you for reading, and a huge THANKS to all those who sent their thoughts. You guys rock!**

**Love, love!**


	49. Chapter 49

_**Five days later…**_

For someone who owned a casino, Russell Edgington wasn't a gambler. Gambling, for him, meant taking chances. He didn't want to be at the mercy of anything. He wanted to operate under calculated risks, things he could control. However, as he sat in the corner of his Mandalay office, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was no longer the one calling the shots.

Russell was always guarded, barely lost his temper. The few times that he did lose control did not bode well for his audience. He took a breath as he studied two of his primary advisers marching toward him with careful strides. They really should be careful especially with the day – no, week – Russell was having.

William Compton and Cassandra Sechrest took their posts across him as he gauged them from behind his desk. He had called an urgent meeting that day after his MGM and Mandalay casinos started coughing up money from their slot machines like a tuberculosis patient.

"Mr. Edgington," Bill started with a cautious nod. "Unfortunately, I only have bad news. Javier, the head of our tech staff, still had no luck tracking the glitch in our system. The person who managed to override our software had built a firewall around it. Javier was trying to decipher the code to crack open the fortress the hacker erected. He said it would be easier if he knew where the bug had been installed."

Russell pressed his lips together. He knew exactly where it started. The computer analyst had been reporting to Russell directly after the system broke down.

Russell stayed silent as he turned to Sandy, the tall woman in her early forties with long brown hair - which she always kept in a tight bun - and deep hazel eyes.

"What's the damage?" Russell asked her.

"As of last night, it's a little over twenty mil, including the winnings from the tables."

He clenched his jaw. That was twenty-fucking-million of his hard-earned money.

"Shut down the entire slot area. I want all the machines replaced." He reached for the heavy crystal glass in front of him. The strong liquor was bad for his already frail liver, but desperate times called for a numbing drink.

"Actually, Mr. Edgington, that might not be possible anymore," Sandy interrupted, raising her silver pen to him.

He shot her a glare. "What do you mean?"

"We have no money left. The bank called this morning; the cheque you issued Mr. Northman bounced," she kept her voice low and timid. His glare tightened as he leaned forward, urging her to elaborate the fuckery she was rambling about. "I dropped by the bank before I came here. It appears that we have no sufficient fund to cover the withdrawal. In fact we have no fund to keep the casino running anymore."

His fingers coiled around the glass and before he could stop himself, he hurled the crystal at the woman, who had the presence of mind to jerk her head to the side to dodge the glass.

"How the fuck is that possible?" he bellowed, springing out of his chair and slamming his palms on the table.

Sandy bolted out of her seat as she brushed off droplets of amber-colored liquor from her crisp charcoal blazer. Bill, ever the gentleman, slipped out of his chair and handed Sandy a white handkerchief he plucked out of his blazer pocket.

Sandy slid back to her seat, reaching for her leather attaché case that was leaning against the foot of her upholstered chair. She cleared her throat, darting wary glances at Russell, who was still glowering down at her. "I went through our ledger. A total of ninety-eight million dollars seemed to be missing from your account in Nevada." She fished for a thick black plastic folder and laid it in front of the seething mogul.

Russell's eyes fell to the folder but he didn't pick it up. He sank back to his chair, clasping his fingers in front of him. "William," he started, his tone melodious, deadly, "would you mind telling me what happened to my money?"

Bill snapped his head to Sandy for help, who only answered him with a cocked brow.

"I-I have no idea, Mr. Edgington. There must be some mistake, let me go through the record again," Bill stammered, already reaching for the folder.

Russell jabbed his finger on top of the folder to keep it in place.

"I knew you were a thief, but I never thought you'd be so brazen to pull the same bullshit on me like you did with Godric."

Bill jumped forward, gripping the edge of the wooden desk. "No! Mr. Edgington, no!" He was shaking his head over and over like a caged animal staring at the man who wouldn't hesitate to put him down. "Sandy, please, help me here. I have nothing to do with this."

Three fluid knocks made Bill's head spin to the door. Then without waiting for permission, two brawny men in suit-and-tie came in. They were Palomino and Mickey, two of Russell's security detail.

With an almost indiscernible nod from Russell, the two men marched to Bill's side. Sandy visibly stiffened at the presence of the sentries as she squeezed into her chair.

"I will only ask you once, William, _where the hell is my money_?" Russell asked in a low voice, gluing his eyes with Bill's.

"Mr. Edgington, I swear -"

"Wrong answer." He flicked his hand in the air and the two heavily-built men, grabbed Bill and hauled him out of his seat by his armpits.

"Get your hands off me!" Bill growled, spittle slinging out of his lips with every syllable. His arms flapped at his sides as he struggled.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, shut him up," Russell drawled impassively as he started flipping the pages inside the black folder.

Palomino, the six-foot-one Mexican with a thick unibrow, gave Bill a sharp uppercut which sent Bill's head jerking upward. Bill sagged from the intensity of the blow before he lost consciousness when Mickey's elbow hit the back of his neck.

The door made a thunk sound when the lock snapped in place.

"Is that necessary, Mr. Edgington?" Sandy asked in a shaky voice.

Russell didn't look up from the folder as he replied with a slow shrug. "He should have thought of that before he fiddled with my money." He threw Sandy a fleeting glance. "I was going to invite you to watch when William gets the Chariot, but from your pasty complexion, I think it's best if you sit that one out."

The meeting had been a charade dedicated for William Compton. His fate had already been decided when Russell found out that he was the one hacking his system.

The computer technician managed to trace the IP address of the hacker yesterday and identified it as Bill's. Russell ordered Javier to keep the information between them as Russell searched for more of Bill's dirty laundry.

Bill's deception was like a perfectly knitted fabric. Russell would have been impressed if he weren't the one Bill was stealing from.

The bastard had been laundering cash in Macau, using Hong Kong and Guangzhou as entry points. That would not have been a problem for Russell since he wanted to circulate the drug money himself. Russell had no doubt Victor had a hand in all these. There was no way Bill could have pulled this big of a subterfuge under Russell's nose without help. But like every woven cloth, a single loose thread could make it unravel.

With Victor gone, Bill must have gotten nervous and decided to stop the circulation and stash the loot as he timed his escape. After an extensive probing, Russell found out a couple of days ago that Bill had planned a trip to Andorra. The trip was booked the day after Victor Madden disappeared.

Everything screamed guilty for one William Compton.

That wasn't even the worst part. The reason that Victor and Bill's thieving ways never made a blip on Russell's radar was because they had been cooking the books. Because of Fucked-up One and Fucked-up Two, he was in danger of going to jail for tax evasion.

In Sandy's succinct phrasing last night during their emergency meeting with the board of directors: _Russell was royally fucked_.

The string of brittle profanities spewing out of Sandy's mouth got his attention as he rolled his eyes to her, the skin on his forehead folding into horizontal slits.

"I got an email from my connection in the IRS," Sandy started, while the pad of her slim fingers tapped wildly at the screen of her smartphone. "When your cheque didn't clear, Mr. Northman started making his own inquiry through his contacts from the agency. You've been flagged, Mr. Edgington. The IRS is going to use a fine comb through your accounts."

Fucked, indeed.

Russell stilled. This was possibly the worst time to get the IRS involved. They would find out about the missing money, the tax evasion, the rigging of the gaming machines. The gaming commission would be so far up his ass by the time the IRS was done with him.

"I suggest we declare bankruptcy now. Just like what Stan Davis did. He sold the Luxor and the Regent before the IRS could stick its finger in his assets," Sandy offered. "That way we'll have the chance to control the records that will go out in public. They'll ask you to shut down operation during the liquidation but at least we'll have a chance to salvage what little fund we have left to pay the creditors."

Russell studied Sandy. He wondered why he didn't choose her to lead his financial team from the get-go. She was always the smartest one with all her pragmatic solutions. However, there was something in her logic that didn't sit right with his digestion. If he declared bankruptcy he would have to push back the unveiling of liquid B that was slated in a couple of days, the night of the boxing match in the MGM.

Russell shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Declaring bankruptcy is not an option to me," he said in a low tone.

"But -"

"_Not_ an option," he gritted, pressing his palm against the hardwood table. Sandy wasn't privy to his drug dealing, much less to the highly-anticipated reveal of his new designer drug. His partners, who were helping him bankroll the development and manufacturing of liquid B, would pull out their capital once the word got out that Russell was no longer financially stable.

He was Russell Edgington. No fucking soul would put him into Chapter 11. He would rather eat scum than become a pitiable beggar.

"Alright," Sandy said in agreement, recognizing his tone. She tapped her pen against the mobile tablet on her lap. "What if you sign over the company to one of the board members?"

Russell lifted his chin and squinted at the brunette. She pointed her pen to him as though telling him to hold off the venom he was about to spew. "Just until we find out where Bill hid your money."

Russell couldn't –_wouldn't_ –trust anyone from his board. Each one of them was a bloodsucking leech. If he signed over his empire to any of them it wouldn't be long before they conspired to depose him. If he were to relinquish the right to his company it would have to be someone he could easily control. Someone he could threaten not to betray him. Someone willing to strike a deal with the devil for a price.

_Susannah_.

Eric Northman sent the IRS on his doorstep. If Northman wanted to burn his empire to the ground, he would have to set fire on Susannah first.

* * *

**E/S**

Eric clipped the Bluetooth to his earlobe before he dialed a 14-digit number.

He waited for the familiar click, not ring. It was an exclusive line, after all. A drop phone that was secured at all times, reserved for special diplomats and aristocrats - kings and presidents. Or in this case, a prince.

After three sets of clicks the line buzzed and a faint male voice came in. "_Oui_?"

"Luca," was the most convivial greeting Eric could muster, considering the nature of his call, "I hope I didn't wake you."

Of course he knew he roused him. That was his intention when he called Michael Warlow's eldest brother at five in the afternoon in Las Vegas, knowing full well it would be two in the morning in Monaco. He wanted Luca to be as disoriented as possible.

A faint female voice came in background followed by a muffled whoosh and thud. He presumed Luca hopped off the bed and was now walking out of his room.

"Eric!" the voice sounded snappy once he recognized the Viking through the other line. "Eric, look. My mother's little stunt in Vegas was -"

"- not smart." Eric cut him off. "You should know better than to mess with me, Luca."

"She wasn't acting on our behalf, I swear to you. Father had no idea she would go that far for Michel," Luca stammered.

Eric could understand Caroline's motivation to save his son. What the sly monarch failed to factor in was the length Eric would go through to protect Sookie.

"Are you in Belle Epoque?" Eric interrupted his rambling. He had no time for lame excuses. "Can you go down to the living room?"

The hushed flapping of Luca's bare feet against the marble floor was all Eric could hear as Luca made his way downstairs toward the receiving area of his apartment in Cap d'Ail. It was where Luca spent most of his weekends with his mistress whenever he was away from the family's chateau. Only a handful knew of that property and the fact that Eric tracked him there made Luca instantly frantic.

"I left a package for you. Can you see it?"

Luca's ragged breathing was music to his ear. Eric heard the crisp crinkling of paper as Luca opened the brown manila envelope.

"What is this?" Luca's raspy voice came through the other line.

Eric smiled, crossing his legs. He was certain Luca was already sifting through the pages of the five-page file he sent him through his _personal courier_ in Monte Carlo.

"That, my friend, is the copy of your brother's little black book." Eric started thumbing through Michael's original ledger as he gave Luca time to skim the pages.

"Eric," Luca's tone sank to a defeated low. "_S'il vous plait_ (Please)…" Luca was undoubtedly the sharpest tool in the Warlow shed, Eric thought.

"I was going to keep that as a souvenir but your mother was forcing my hand," Eric drawled. "If you would be so kind to turn to page three, I'm sure you'll be able to recognize the name your brother had written down quite generously."

It was of a famous conservative oligarch, Alexei Romanov, who was running for a one of the legislative positions in Russia. Romanov's zero tolerance movement against illicit drugs was the foundation of his campaign. If word leaked out that Romanov was a user himself, his hypocrisy would cost him a seat in Duma. And Luca was clever enough to know the repercussions should the list went public.

"A wealthy politician was already dangerous. Try crossing a Russian politician with inexhaustible resources, who can easily silence your brother for good," Eric voiced out Luca's thoughts. "Not to mention the other names on that list." He clicked his tongue condescendingly. "Your brother sure knows how to pick his clients."

"_S'il vous plait_, Eric," Luca pleaded one more time. "Let's not do anything rash here."

Eric sighed dramatically, weaving his fingers through his hair.

"You're getting complacent, Luca. It's not fitting for a man of your position to be this careless," Eric chided derisively. "Maybe it's time you keep everyone in your kingdom on a tight leash. Do you agree?"

"_Oui, oui_. I could not agree more," Luca said hurriedly in his thick accent. Eric heard about Prince Albert's declining health. Soon Luca would take his post in Monaco and a scandal of this proportion would not only threaten Luca's throne but his entire family's stand in Monte Carlo.

"The reason I'm calling you, Luca, is out of courtesy to you," Eric dropped his tone to a lethal low. "I wouldn't be so tolerant next time."

"_Je vais parler à la Mère_ (I will talk to Mother). She will have to understand that Michel is no longer our concern," Luca stammered. Eric could almost visualize Luca sweating from relief. "We are good, _oui?_"

"Oh, we barely scratched the surface, my friend," Eric cooed. "This doesn't make us even. _She_ spent a night in jail. It wasn't something I'll soon forget nor forgive."

Eric didn't need to drop Sookie's name. She was the reason his brother was in prison. Eriic doubted any Warlow would forget Sookie's name anytime soon.

"Eric, my friend, please. I'm willing to make amends. I'll talk to _her_ if you want."

"That won't be necessary," he dismissed Luca's offer. "There's this small matter I want you to do."

There was a brief pause on the other line. "Anything," Luca hushed.

"Two days from now, someone will be landing on your dock in a private yacht. There will be a large shipment of heroine and a new drug called liquid B aboard. I want you to ambush it. And I want it to be a spectacle. Un-fucking-missable. This is not a favor to me as much as it is to you. Think about it, Luca, what better way to salvage your family's name than to bust an international drug deal." Eric let his words sink in. "Can you picture it? Michael's incarceration for drug pushing surely made a distinct dent in your family's reputation. You can fortify your claim to the throne by showing everyone you are not like your bastardous brother."

Eric could almost hear the wheels turning in Luca's head. He knew the Viking's Faustian bargain wasn't just a simple drug bust. But he also knew there was no way he could refuse Eric.

A subdued gurgling sound filled the strained silence with something other than strain. Luca must be pouring himself a stiff drink. Eric would too if he were in Luca's position.

"Done," was Luca's reply after a momentary pause. "How do I know which ship to watch out for?"

"You'll receive the details tomorrow," Eric replied. "Oh, and Luca, in case you've forgotten, I always play with my cards close to my vest. The list that you have there is only a sneak peek of what your brother has provided in his ledger. I'll keep the rest as insurance, if you don't mind." When Luca didn't offer a rebuttal, Eric continued. "Funny thing is… Romanov is just the tip of the iceberg. He isn't half as interesting as the other people on Michael's catalogue."

Eric was a businessman in every sense - he was certain he had the perfect pitch for the homerun.

"I will not forget," Luca sounded beaten but relieved at the same time. "Thank you, Eric. _Merci beaucoup_," the gratitude flooded and Eric couldn't help but shake his head at how easy these monarchs were.

"_Très bien_ (Very well)," Eric replied in his equally melodious French. "You better change your locks, too. You don't know what kind of people can come and go into your house."

Luca had four guards posted outside his door and the burglar alarms installed in all his private homes were top-of-the-line.

It only meant one thing, he wasn't safe from the Viking.

Luca might have the best security only a monarch could afford, but Eric had the best larcenist money could buy. Eric lived by a certain set of rules and one of them was: _If you wanted to catch a thief, hire one_.

Before Eric could disconnect the line, Luca spoke again. "Again, my apologies for the trouble my mother caused you and your…" Luca's voice hung in the air as though he was deliberating what appellation to give Sookie.

"Fiancée," Eric finished for Luca. "She's my fiancée." He just had to pop the question.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric.**

**Can you guess who will be delivering the goods to Monaco? I'll give you a clue. It rhymes with Whora. **

**Thanks for continuing to indulge me. Your thoughts are always welcome. They feed the muse. **

**Love, love!**


	50. Chapter 50

It wasn't the Rosetta stone.

Sookie didn't have to be well-versed in business law to be able to catch the gist of the document she was reading. It was a contract, a change of ownership to be exact. He was naming her the new owner of the Edgington Industries.

"I'm sorry. My John Hancock's precious. Unless you tell me exactly what this is, I'm not signin' anything," she said, feigning confusion, flipping the folder shut and putting it on top of the table in front of her.

Russell leaned back in his chair behind the desk, propping his elbows on the thick armrest. "It's a gift," he answered lazily, clasping his fingers together. In every sense it could easily be perceived as a generous offering, but because it was coming from him, it could only be one thing: a trap.

She mirrored his stance, playing along as she drilled him with a penetrating squint. "Why?"

"Didn't Adele teach you not to look at a gift horse in the mouth?"

Her stare tightened at the mention of her grandmother. "Not when the horse came with your name," she replied tersely. "What's the catch? There's always a catch."

"I'm broke," he replied without missing a beat and Sookie gave him points for honesty. "William and Victor stole a large chunk from my repository. And after the hacking incident, which I assume you've already heard of, my assets had been drastically decimated."

Sookie couldn't help but laugh. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she tried to muffle the noise escaping from her lips. "So basically, what you're giving me is crap. A house of cards - ready to collapse at the slightest push."

Russell's lips pressed into a taut line. Unlike Sookie, he couldn't find anything hilarious with his current predicament. And the way the muscles in his jawline leaped and tensed against his skin, Sookie knew she was treading on very thin ice.

Her laughter tapered off. "I'm not signing it. Find yourself another patsy. I'm not gonna be your sacrificial lamb."

Russell fixed his eyes on her, his lips twisting into a leer. "What gives you the impression that you have a choice?" His tone lilted with cockiness. "This is merely for formality. My lawyer is already processing the papers. Before the day is done, you'll be the owner of this empire you so callously called 'a piece of crap'. Or is it a house of cards?" He tilted his head to side, sneering.

Her teeth gnashed together. She bit back the bile rising up her throat as she forced herself to scoff. "You really despise me, don't you? No matter what I do, I'll never be good enough for you? Why don't you just handcuff me right now and throw me in jail. That's what you want, isn't it? You love Bill so much that you'd rather throw your own flesh and blood under the bus than lose your precious William." If there was ever a time to play the grandpa card, it would be now.

Russell eyes shifted, taken aback by the sudden poignancy in her tone. His brows furrowed before he looked away and reached for the sleek remote inside his drawer. He pointed the remote control to the fifty-inch plasma TV mounted on the wall behind Sookie.

A stomach-churning wail cut through the silence that hung in the air. Sookie twisted her head as she turned to the direction of the noise.

Her head swelled as she sucked in a breath. The gut-wrenching noise was coming from Bill, who was wriggling in a pained, slow motion. Like an earthworm after someone had poured salt all over its wounded body. His clothes were soiled, bloodied and shredded while he lay on his back on a wide stretch of black asphalt. His arms were stretched over his head, held together by thick welded steel chain snaking around his arms all the way to his wrists. Sookie couldn't see where the chain led but if she were to take a guess, it might have been attached to a vehicle, recalling a cautionary tale Eric had told her about a certain Chariot ride.

"As you can see, Susannah, William is currently indisposed," Russell stated before he pressed a button on the remote to turn off the monitor.

Sookie knew Bill was being held for questioning. Eric informed her in his coaster missive last night. For someone as clued-up as her, nothing and no one could have prepared her for the sight she just witnessed.

Russell watched her with guarded expression as her hands fell on the paperback resting on her lap. He stood up from his chair and made his way in front of her, prying the book from her quivering fingers. He scanned the front cover. "Houdini?" he read the title. "Why do you waste your time with this bullshit?"

The book wasn't hers. It was Bill's. Harry Houdini's The Right Way Of Doing Wrong.

Even before Eric notified her of Bill's demise, she already had a hunch that something was amiss when Bill, her perpetual shadow, never made it to her usual lunch. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Palomino, Mickey and another one of Russell's personal guards ransack Bill's office like uncouth thieves - flipping over drawers and tossing out books and ledgers off the shelves the day Bill disappeared.

Palomino, the less brute and more polite of the Three Stooges, asked her to leave as soon as she arrived. Sookie knew better than to ask questions she didn't want answers to as she turned to go. But as she was leaving Bill's cluttered workplace, she caught a glimpse of a thin, red softbound book that was lying on the floor along with the hardbound business manuals. She recognized it from the last time she was in Bill's office the night of Thalia's carefully choreographed death. The reason it stood out to her was because it was the only book that wasn't tucked in the wooden bookcase. It was on his table beside his laptop.

She asked Palomino if she could have it and the Mexican sentry, who seemed to be in a haste to get rid of her, agreed immediately as he tossed her the paperback.

Her brief sentiment earlier about Russell choosing Bill over her was all for show.

"Don't kill him," were the only words she could muster as she willed herself back into focus.

Russell cocked his brow as he dropped the book on the floor. Sookie bent down to retrieve it as casually as she could. "I have to say I am quite surprised. I thought after the finesse you showed with Thalia, you'd be the first to volunteer to end William's pathetic life."

She steeled her features. "No one deserves to die like that. Not even Bill." She should know since she harbored a great amount of hatred toward her former neighbor. "And a wise man once told me, there is a fate far worse than death. From where I'm standing, Bill's already there."

Russell kept mum, sliding backin his upholstered chair. He seemed to be weighing in the sincerity on her face. After a while, he leaned forward, resting his palms on his desk. "William's refusing to divulge where he kept my money. If you manage to get that information from him, I'll let him live."

Sookie bit her lower lip, contemplating whether to take the bait.

"Alright. But I won't go down there. He was the one being punished. Not me," she retorted after a pregnant pause. "Order your people to unchain him and give him medical attention. I don't want him to pass out on me."

Russell mouth twisted into a toothy grin – a smile so maniacal it almost made her shudder.

* * *

**E/S**

Russell stared at the customized stationery pressed between his thumb and his index finger. The paper had the color of blood embossed with golden wispy lines surrounding the delicately calligraphed _Q_ at the middle of the page. The invitation was brimming with hubris. His eyes landed on the dried wax that was used to seal the red envelope. It was black - pressed with The North's logo - as dark as the intent of the man who sent it.

The missive was delivered to Russell with a single purpose: _To taunt him_.

He flipped the paper over to read the handwritten message on the back.

"_It takes three to form a trinity. How many do you have?"_

Cursing under his breath he tossed the crimson paper on top of the growing stack of papers on his desk. Northman must have found out about his latest acquisition in Macau. When he bought the Luciano chip from a Chinese businessman, whose name was too trivial to remember.

Lucky Luciano's platinum chip had been burning a hole inside his personal vault at the MGM since he came back to Las Vegas. He could barely look at it now. He was too frustrated to even touch it. It was nothing compared to what Northman held in his palm. Even without the Bugsy, Capone's chip was enough to raise Godric's bastard to the top of the food chain. It was a piece of history that could alter someone's fate in a town ruled by old money and old power.

Russell picked up the cordless phone off its cradle and pressed a button. "Buy me a seat in Northman's tournament at the Regent tonight. I also want the names of the croupiers Northman hired for the soft opening. And get Sophie Anne Leclerq on the phone. She's in town for the fight and she's staying at the Four Seasons," he barked at his assistant, Tanya.

As he waited for his secretary to call back, Russell couldn't help but feel restless because right now he was on the brink of a colossal breakdown. The only thing missing was that spectacular crash he knew the fucking bastard was waiting for.

No. He would never give him the satisfaction.

His phone rang and he lifted it to his ear. "Is it done?"

"It is, Mr. Edgington. But Miss Ravenscroft had a specific requirement," Tanya replied through the next line.

_Peachy_. "What is it?"

"That you bring Charles Luciano with you tonight," Tanya sounded apprehensive, baffled even.

_Of-fucking-course._ "And what of Sophie Anne?"

"She's on the other line."

Russell disconnected the line with his secretary before he pressed another button and listened for the ginger heiress's trilling voice to peal from the receiver.

Eric Northman might have the Scarface and the Bugsy but Russell still had something in his arsenal that Northman was powerless against.

* * *

**E/S**

She hated heels. Six-inch heels to be exact. How women – and by women, she meant Pam – could walk effortlessly in these torturous gear was beyond her.

But if Superman could wear red speedo under blue unitard, Sookie thought she could suffer a few hours in her own costume, which consisted of a black strapless cocktail dress and a pair of six-inch Manolos.

She darted a glance at her companion. Russell had been awfully quiet during their whole ride to the MGM. She didn't like quiet Russell. Because it meant he was having another one of his brainstorms, one that could bring a hell of a storm for her.

"When will I get to see Bill?" she asked, breaking the impasse as they tread the empty corridor of the Grand's 35th floor, with Palomino and Mickey trailing them two steps behind. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Russell pulled his black crocodile hide checkbook wallet from his left breast pocket and plucked a gold-plated keycard with nothing but a black horizontal line at the back. They reached the corner suite and he stopped in front of the white double doors. He inserted his card into the golden slot and with a soft _tut-tut_ the door unlocked.

"William still lives," he answered before he turned the shiny handle and pushed the door with his shoulder, giving her a wide berth inside the suite. "There was just a slight complication that needed to be dealt with before you'll be able to see him. You see, Mickey here got a little carried away with William after we spoke. Rest assured, Palomino will bring you to him as soon as possible."

Sookie stepped inside, brushing past the old man, who was uncharacteristically chivalrous as he held the door for her. Whatever was inside the enormous room, it was for her.

Her eyes landed on the man standing near the floor-to-ceiling window, which was overlooking the Strip, looking sharp in a tailored black and white tuxedo.

"Jason!"

To her surprise, Jason didn't look as happy to see her as his eyes started picking her apart, glaring in their general direction. "Jase?" she asked as she started closing in on her unusually cold sibling.

Jason, hands tucked in his pockets, leered. It wasn't something she was accustomed to. Jason would grin, smile, giggle at times, even smirk teasingly, but he would never ever leer. Not to her, not to anyone. Her sweet, innocent brother was breaking and along the fault line she could see his pain mirroring her own.

"Look at you. All dolled up for granddaddy," he drawled acerbically.

The clicking of the lock as the door closed behind her barely registered as she took in the sarcasm in Jason's tone.

Her brows drew closer, offering him nothing but silence.

"He told me what you did with that pit boss at the Mandalay." Jason shook his head lightly, a hard edge on his eyes. "How can you sleep at night, Sook? How're you gonna explain yourself to Gran?"

"I did it for you," she spat with trembling voice before she lowered her gaze to the floor. "I did it for Michele. He let her go, didn't he? She's with her family now."

Jason squinted, "I am her family!" he rammed his thumb on his chest. Grabbing the back of his neck with both hands he turned his back to her. His shoulders moved up and down as he took ragged breaths.

Sookie moved in front of him, clamping her hands on his upper arms. "Jase…" she pleaded with a single word.

A look, too fleeting to notice, flickered between the siblings before he wrestled out of her grasp, taking half a step backward. "Don't you fucking touch me!" He whirled around to face Russell, who was sitting languidly on the cream plush sofa, legs crossed.

"_You_ did this!" Jason jabbed a finger at Russell, who was casually gliding his palm across his silk tie, seemingly oblivious to the sibling drama unfolding right in front of him. "You turned her into you!"

Russell rolled his eyes as he peeled himself off the couch and sauntered toward the TV rack, where an opened bottle of Perignon was chilling inside a pewter champagne bucket. He poured himself a glass of the sparkling wine and took a lazy sip.

"Oh, yawn. Spare me the drama," Russell drawled, putting the glass back beside the sweating bucket. "I did your sister a favor. She has always been a walking pistol. I just gave her the target."

Russell didn't see Jason coming as the male Stackhouse lunged at him and tackled him to the carpeted floor.

Sookie screamed, "Jason!" before she darted to the door and pulled it open to let Russell's guards in.

Russell's arms flew over his face, shielding himself as Jason clawed at him. Palomino and Mickey came charging in. The hulking Mexican pried Jason off the disheveled mogul, while the shorter but stockier Mickey, reached for Russell.

Sookie saw Palomino reach for a taser tucked under his belt. She dashed toward Palomino and Jason, and gave the sentry's arm a sharp jerk, making him drop the weapon to the ground. She yanked at the collar of Palomino's white buttoned-down shirt from behind. The hulking Mexican made a hacking sound as his collar tightened like a noose around his neck, crushing his Adam's apple. He lost his grip on Jason and the older Stackhouse didn't waste a second as he sprinted out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sookie raced to the door, pressing her body hard against the heavy white wood. "Let him go!" she bellowed, pushing her palms at Palomino's chest when he tried to shove her out of the way. "Leave him alone!"

Russell, who seemed to regain his poise, stomped toward Sookie with Mickey right behind him. "Get out of the way Susannah," he ordered in an undertone. He threaded his fingers through his black hair, sweeping it back to his receding hairline.

"This is your fault. You want to turn him against me," she spat, blinking back tears that were threatening to spill.

Russell drilled her with a look.

"Call surveillance. Order an APB on Jason. Bring him to the holding cell, I'll deal with him tomorrow," he commanded his guards in an even tone. "You're coming with me," he told Sookie, curling his fingers around her wrist.

Sookie knew playtime was over.

* * *

**E/S**

Jason ran out of the suite and dashed to the emergency exit at the opposite end of the hallway.

'_Thirty-four.' _

'_Thirty-three.' _

'_Thirty-two,'_ he counted silently as he bounded two steps at a time.

He shoved the double heavy metal doors open when he reached the landing of the thirtieth floor.

'_Three-zero-one-one.'_ His head swiveled from left to right as he scanned the door numbers.

He was nearing door 3008 when he felt a strong, firm hand on his bicep. Jason snapped his head to the side and he instantly blanched when he saw Palomino glaring down at him.

Jason would have screamed if it wasn't for Palomino's hand that clapped over his mouth as the guard dragged him backward and hauled him into one of the rooms.

The door shut behind Jason with a thud as Palomino slammed him against the wall. Jason flailed his arms to wriggle out of his grasp but his strength was no match against the Mexican guard. To his utter shock, Palomino put a finger over his mouth, as his other hand kept him in place. "I'm gonna take my hand off you now. Don't. Scream."

Jason's eyes shifted, before he nodded yes. "You're workin' for Eric!?" he blurted when Palomino took his palm off his mouth. "But you almost tased me!"

"Almost," Palomino stressed. "Do you really think your sister will let me in if she knew I was gonna hurt you?"

Palomino, in a few words, relayed to Jason that he wasn't actually a part of Eric's original Mandalay team. But when he discovered Thalia's cover was blown, he knew he had to pick a side. It seemed that while Thalia was working the Mandalay, she was also worming her way into the Mexican guard's personal life. Thalia and Palomino had been seeing each other for over a year now. Apparently, some things were still sacred in Vegas.

Palomino ended his summation by channeling Elvis. "He can't buy me love." And Jason disguised his wince with an impish grin from Palomino's mushy tale.

Jason turned away from Palomino as his eyes roamed the rest of the suite. It had the same decoration as the suite he just evacuated on the 35th floor. Same dark brown carpet with overlapping swirls' pattern. Same cream-colored sofa set. Same mini bar beside the TV rack. Same king size bed at the other end of the room and same Eric Northman waltzing toward him.

Wait, what?

Jason blinked rapidly as he zoomed in on the six-foot-four blonde male in a tuxedo, who just stepped out of the ensuite bathroom. If Jason wasn't so disoriented, he would have thought it really was Eric Northman.

"What the fuck?" Jason gasped.

"Hello, Jason," Eric Northman's doppelganger greeted. His voice was different. Deeper compared to Eric's lilting tone.

By god, he looked exactly like Eric Northman. He even had Eric's pompous swagger. But as tall and blondie got closer, Jason began picking his dissimilarities to Eric. His nose was pointier, his lips were fuller and his eyes were darker.

Before Jason could utter a response, two muffled _tut-tut_ sounded before the door swung open, revealing the real Eric Northman himself.

Eric gave his doppelganger a slow nod and that was all the communication they needed before Eric Junior waltzed out of the door, leaving Jason gaping after them. He must have looked like a total dumbass as he pointed to the door then back to Eric.

"He'll be me while I deal with you. He'll take my place at the bar until the fight," Eric answered his unspoken query. "Russell had men tailing me all day. I had to do something to throw them off."

If there was one thing – aside from casinos—that Sin City had no scarcity of, it was the sheer number of impersonators for Vegas icons. And there was no better icon for a womanizing tycoon than Eric Northman.

"Well, he was a dead ringer for you," Jason agreed, scratching the back of his neck.

Eric shrugged. "He'll do. Pam actually wanted to hire some Swedish punk as my stand-in."

"You should've gotten the Swede actor," a lissome redhead in a short moss green spaghetti strap dress chimed in as she sauntered out of the adjacent bath like an apparition.

Jason's lips parted as he gave the redhead a once over.

"The Swede doesn't look like me. And if you ever mention that to Sookie, you're fired," Eric snapped at the redhead before he held out his hand to Jason. "Did you get it?"

Jason pressed his gaping lips together. "Oh. Yeah. Yeah. Here." Reaching under his blazer, he pried a checkbook wallet from the waistband of his pants and gave it to Eric. "You're right. It's in his left breast pocket."

"Fantastic." Eric grinned, flipping the wallet open. He fished for the gold keycard from the top slot and tossed it to Palomino. Palomino caught the card with ease as he crouched beside the sofa while pressing his hand on the side of his head where a miniscule headset was attached to his ear. "I had my doubts. But it seems you _are_ your sister's brother."

Picking Russell's wallet was part of the plan. When he received a call from Russell last night, informing him that he would be going to the Grand for the Pacqiuao-Marquez boxing match, he sent an exigent message to Eric by calling housekeeping and asking for extra shower foam. That was their assigned code for when he was going to be transferred to another location.

Jason waited for an hour before he ordered his daily porn. Girl-on-girl, of course. As expected a message appeared halfway through the film, just when the leading ladies started getting naked much to Jason's dismay. Why couldn't Eric send his message during the boring parts, Jason thought begrudgingly as he started jotting down notes on the pad of his palm.

'_Left exit. Five floors down. 3011.' _

He memorized the data before he washed his hand. The mission was pretty straightforward, he would orchestrate a commotion as he tried to swipe Russell's wallet from his inner breast pocket. Sookie would create a diversion as he made a run for room 3011, where someone working for Eric would be waiting for him.

Procuring the wallet was optional, Eric had stressed. The main goal was to get him out of the MGM. But Jason knew it was time for him to step up. He stayed up all night formulating a perfect plan. The opportunity presented itself when Russell called him early that morning and told him about the deal Sookie struck with him to let Michele go. He knew about the pit boss and the scheme to fake her death in exchange for Michele's release. Eric had informed him when he asked about his wife.

And Jason had never been so grateful his sister was such a good liar.

Jason's eyes flitted from Eric to the redhead he called Clove.

Clove, which he later found out was short for Clovache, darted to the bed and grabbed the black garment bag that was sprawled on top of it before she made her way back to Jason and Eric in front of the TV rack.

Jason jerked his head when the redhead with a pair of piercing gray eyes gave him the garment bag before she swept his hair up and started flicking a small make-up brush along his eyebrows. "Hey! What the hell?"

"Stop fussing. I promise no blush-on," she said with a wink. She had a thick foreign accent that Jason couldn't put his finger on. Mediterranean, perhaps? Hell if he knew. "Now, take off your clothes." She unzipped the bag Jason was holding up.

"In front of you?" Jason asked, bewildered but amused at the same time. "Won't you at least buy me dinner first?" He couldn't help it, flirting was part of his nature. Like blinking and breathing.

"Jason, stop fucking around and start moving," Eric said in a stern voice before the Viking went over to Palomino's side. The Mexican sentry was typing methodically on the laptop that was perched on top of the round glass center table in front of the sofa. Jason saw Palomino swipe the gold keycard across a device that resembled a creditcard reader.

Jason unbuttoned his black blazer and shrugged it off while peeling his leather shoes off with his other foot.

"Pants off," the redhead instructed again as she took the garment bag from Jason.

"Say please," Jason cooed with a playful smirk. He always liked aggressive women. And technically he wasn't cheating. He promised Michele he wouldn't sleep with anyone else. There was no rule against flirting.

"I'm gay," was her succinct reply with a roll of her eyes. Those two syllables were enough to quell Jason's philandering urges as he slipped out of his black tailored pants and into the dark charcoal pair she gave him.

"Focus, Jason," Eric growled as he strode toward Jason. "Sookie can only buy you so much time before every floor gets swarmed with guards looking for you."

"Right. Right," Jason nodded slightly as zipped his fly. The redhead's methodical fingers started pinning a fake moustache over his lips and he waited for her to finish before he turned to Eric again. "Is she gonna be okay back there?"

There was strained pause as a dark shadow passed over Eric's composed face. "She will be."

Eric didn't sound so convincing but if anyone could keep Sookie safe it would be the man with the plan.

"Listen carefully and don't interrupt," Eric directed Jason's attention back to him as Clove helped Jason put on a light gray dress shirt. "Sam will be able to give you a clear path for five minutes. He can only piggyback the surveillance for a short time to avoid detection. You have to be out of here and into the first elevator to your right before the time expires. The elevator will be waiting for you. Follow Clove into the casino floor as you skirt around the cameras. Stick to her side, she knows all the Choke Points. You must avoid Choke Points at all times because those are the parts of the casino where they run facial recognition."

Jason managed to bob his head before Clove slapped the underside of chin with the back of her hand, urging him to look up as she flipped his collar upward to wrap a blue pinstripe tie around his neck.

"When you get to the east wing, that's when you part ways with her. She will go into the high stakes room in the west wing. Do not follow her. You stay at the east where you'll see the slot machines' area. The entire section will be cordoned off. Stay away from that zone. They'll be moving the machines out of the floor so that section will be monitored closely."

Jason looked down at his feet when Clove patted his shin with her foot. A number of inappropriate remarks swirled inside his head as the gorgeous redhead kneeled in front of him to slip a pair of brown suede shoes for him to put on. But he bit them all back afraid that Eric might lose his patience with him.

"Go to the baccarat table farthest from the slot machines in the east. Make sure you're in a smoking section. Sit on the right side of the dealer." Eric walked to the mini bar and opened the top drawer where he took out a pack of Marlboro Red and a matchbook with the MGM logo on it. He marched back to Jason and shoved the pack of cigarettes into Jason's pocket. "Light up a cigarette and keep your head down. Wait for the other players to place their bets before you make your own. Bet only the minimum. You cannot be the gunner. They pay close attention to gunners for card mucking. Do you even know what a gunner is?"

Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course he knew what a gunner was. It was the player with the highest bet at the table, who would be given the chance to squeeze to cards.

"Don't be a gunner. Sure," Jason replied, swallowing the retort he wanted to sling at Eric. "Why do I need to smoke?"

Eric raised his right arm and checked his wristwatch. "It'll be your shield from the eye in the sky. Sam cannot blind them - especially tonight with all the whales in the house - so you have to work around the black domes."

Eye in the sky was the term used by the casino's surveillance team for their roving cameras inside the black domes.

The redhead poured a white foamy substance in her palm before she dumped it on Jason's head. Her fingers slathered the hair product (or what Jason hoped was a hair product rather than some whipped cream she found in the fridge) all over his head. Then she walked back to the bed to get a short black wig with streaks of gray strands. He didn't have to be Einstein to figure out that the wig was for him before she clamped it on his sticky hair without asking for permission. Jason would have been put out by the imposition if she didn't shoot him a look that seemed to say: _Don't be a girl._

Out of his periphery Jason spied Palomino straightening up while inserting the gold keycard back into the wallet. He slipped Russell's wallet into his back pocket before he advanced toward Eric.

"Russell is on his way to the Arena," Palomino said, clipping his headset back on. "I need to return this before he requests for a new card."

"You're givin' him back the wallet?" No matter how hard Jason tried to keep up, he always seemed to be missing something.

"We don't need the actual card," Eric replied in a clinical tone. "We only need to have a clone of the card. Russell won't have time to change the locks now so as long as he thinks Palomino foiled your plan to steal it, we're still good."

"I told you; I don't need a key to open his vault," Clove interjected with a healthy dash of smugness in her tone.

Eric's lips tugged at the corner. "I know you don't," he crooned patronizingly. His sneer dissolved as quickly as it appeared as his expression hardened. "But I want it done my way. As long as Sookie's with him, I don't want to do anything that will put her in any more danger. Are we clear?"

Jason gulped as he bit his lower lip, eyeing Clove who seemed to tense up under Eric's withering glare.

Eric turned to Jason. "Put on your shoes. You need to leave. The fight'll start in half an hour."

"Why can't I just wait here until the fight starts before I make a run for it?"

Eric locked his gaze with Jason. It was Jason's turn to shrink. "There are at least two dozen uniformed guards waiting for you to set foot outside this hotel. It doesn't matter how fast you think you can run, you won't be able to outrun them all."

Eric glanced at his wristwatch again. "And you can't hide here. Didn't you hear me when I told you every room, every hallway will be searched after what you did to Russell. That's why you have to hide in plain sight. The only room in this hotel that the guards cannot totally manhandle is the casino floor. Russell cannot afford to lose his whales tonight. The guards are under tight orders not to spook the gamblers. Stay in the casino until Jake comes in to get you."

Jason was tempted to argue but from the look on Eric's face, he knew Eric had already considered every viable options and this was Jason's best chance to escape.

He slipped his foot in one of the suede shoes and his brows knotted when he felt something round and hard rubbing against his sole.

"There's something in here." Jason bent down to get whatever was inside his footwear when Eric caught his arm.

"Keep it there. It's a marble," Eric said hurriedly.

"Why is there a marble in my shoe? It'll make me wobble the whole night, aside from the fact that it'll hurt like hell," Jason whined.

Eric threw his head back in frustration with a suppressed grunt. "Are you sure you're not adopted?"

Jason squinted his eyes at him. "I can do without the sarcasm, y'know," he said dryly. "Don't make me play my Sookie card, blondie."

"This is your Sookie card, genius. I promised your sister I'll get you out of here in one piece," Eric retorted with a matching glower.

"Just explain the damn marble," Jason huffed, hooking one arm inside the charcoal blazer that Clove was holding out for him.

"It's a spy trick," Eric answered with a sigh. "They will be looking for a young Caucasian male with blonde hair. With your disguise, you'll be a middle-aged man with dark hair _and a limp_. Disguising can only change your look. Limping can turn you into a whole new person. Haven't you watched The Usual Suspects? Next time, instead of ordering porn, why don't you watch some classics for a change?"

Jason pursed his lips. Damn it, this man was good. Not _good_ good. But scary good.

"Now make yourself useful and punch Palomino in the face," Eric said casually, as though he was reciting a grocery item.

"What!?" Jason exclaimed as he gawped at Eric then at Palomino, who was looking at him with a blank expression.

"He'll be returning the wallet back to Russell. You can't expect that suspicious fucktard to believe Palomino lost you without a struggle," Eric explained with another exasperated huff.

"C'mon. Give it a go. I promise I won't hit you back," Palomino teased, drooping a little so his face would be levelled with Jason's.

"I'm sorry, man," Jason mumbled before he gave the Mexican guard a shovel hook to the right cheek.

Palomino groaned, cupping the side of his face where Jason's fist made the connection.

"Shit! Shit! Are you alright?" Jason stretched his arm to Palomino, bending sideway to assess the damage he had inflicted on the guard.

The sound of Eric and Palomino's grating chuckles pulled him out of his miserable state.

"The fuck!" Jason screeched, indignant.

"Don't sweat it, brother," Palomino said in between chortles, while tapping Jason's back. "You punch like a girl."

Jason's nostrils flared. He was about to lash out when Clove took him by the wrist and steered him toward the door.

Eric, whose irritating laughter tapered off, gave Clove a terse nod. "Make the call."

Without a word, Clove pulled a white iPhone out of her purse and pressed a single button. "Moses is on the move. Blind the eye on the thirtieth in 20 seconds."

"Wait, Eric. Where are you goin'?" Jason asked as he twisted toward the Viking, while Clove had her eyes glued on the screen of her phone, waiting for the twenty-second timer to run out.

"I have a date with your sister." Eric flashed him a lopsided smirk that held so many promises.

* * *

**A/N: I don't own Eric. If I do… oh the joy.**

**Thank you for indulging me! Your thoughts are always welcome. Oh, and yes, the Swede punk is ASkars. **

**Love, love, love!**

**Happy TB Sunday! I heard it's going to be a doozie!**

**PS: Forgive the mistakes.**


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